


The Nanny

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Oblivious Q, Smooth James Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:44:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8256374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: Originally working for a gaming company, Q ends up working as the nanny for Mister Bond's two children. But when the kids no longer need him and he finds a job in his field, Mister Bond isn't so keen to let go.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I...really have no idea where this is going, to be honest. Still, hope you enjoy reading it because I enjoy writing it.

He cleared his throat for the third time since he had entered Mister Bond’s office, but that only seemed to make his boss type even more furiously. Some might have taken that as a clear hint that the man was busy, but he knew that he was just filling in a word document with random letters, especially since the spacebar hadn’t been hit so much as once.

 

“Mister Bond, I _really_ need to talk with you,” Q stressed, tapping the back of the man’s laptop.

 

“Can’t this wait until I am done? I have a really important meeting coming up and I need to finish this presentation by then,” his boss lied through his teeth and Q just sighed and sat down on the sofa, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s going to take a while. A long while, actually. In fact, I don’t think I’ll be done this century,” Mister Bond said when he noticed that Q planned on waiting, peeking over his laptop in a somewhat desperate way.

 

Q just grinned. “Don’t worry; I have more than enough time to wait for you to finish writing down that ridiculously long word that also contains numbers.”

 

 _Now_ his boss started to abuse the space bar, glaring at him. “But the kids—”

 

He clicked his tongue, narrowing his eyes so much that he almost closed them. “You were right there when they left for camp. You even kissed and hugged them and, despite my objections, slipped both of them 500 pounds each, remember?” He was so tempted to pinch the tip of his ears and tug on them, but held back because they needed to have an important conversation.  

 

At least his boss had the decency to look guilty, even if it was just for a moment. “Which reminds me, why aren’t you enjoying your vacation?” A moment of silence and Q took a breath, opening his mouth to officially inform his boss why he was there, but the man spoke up before him, rummaging through his desk. “You know what? I’ll pay for a nice, one week trip in Bahamas.”

 

“Mister Bond—”

 

“I meant to say one _month_ and since I know you dislike flying, I am going to give you one of my private planes since it seems that it helps you calm down.” Q sighed, but the man still continued to rant. “You’ll stay in a five star hotel, of course – _the_ _best_ one in Bahamas, in fact.” He stopped suddenly and Q made to talk again. “Wait, you prefer the mountain.” Great, now he pulled out a map. “Point where you want to go and I’ll pay.”

 

Q pushed the map down and covered his boss’ mouth. “Mister Bond, you know I won’t accept that.” The way his boss looked at him made him feel as if he had kicked a puppy in the head and then threw him out in the middle of a snowstorm. “Now, on to me giving you—”

 

“I’ll triple your pay,” Mister Bond breathed out. “I’ll buy you the house across from this one or whichever one you want and a car, any car that catches your eyes,” he added when he felt that Q wasn’t being swayed.

 

Q let out another sigh and shook his head. Why was mister Bond insisting on making things harder for him than they already were? He liked his current job as he outright loved the two angelic once in a blue moon and demonic children every bloody second that they breathed that were Mister Bond’s children.

 

He hadn’t planned on becoming a nanny, but most things in our lives aren’t planned. He had been working for this one company, codding games on a conveyor belt for chicken scratch because he was the last link in the chain of command – he should have kept to hacking and drown out his conscience the second the finished college – when, after a long night of redoing the codding of a game because the higher-ups suddenly wanted three new levels overnight and the enemy AI redone so that the players didn’t have too much of a problem with them, he ended up bumping into a certain young mister Bond who had decided to run away from home and bunk out near his rundown building.

 

It was obvious from a mile away that the young boy come from money, what with his original clothing and the fact that he was using – at that time – the latest phone on the market to make his way around London. In fact, Q grimly noticed that the boy had about three shady people following him, either plotting to kidnap him or rob him blind, so he grabbed his makeshift Taser and saved the boy.

 

“You should really pay attention to your surroundings. For that matter, the next time you run from home, you’d best keep away from this part of London,” he said softly, patting the boy’s head in an attempt to calm him down a little.

 

“How did you know that I ran away? I might have gotten lost,” the boy hiccupped, using Q’s jacket to wipe his tears – and hopefully nothing else.

 

Q tapped the boy’s phone as an answer, winking at him. “Now, how about you call your parents so they can pick you up?”

 

Not five minutes after the boy made the call – and in the middle of his excited rant about how much he liked the movie that was splattered on Q’s shirt – and a silver Aston Martin pulled up next to them from which a blond blur teleported out and wrapped its limbs around the now pacified boy, kissing his ear and switching between words of comfort and promises of being grounded for the rest of his life – Q would later find out that Mister Bond had almost instantly found out his son was missing and had his security team track him down.

 

“Thank you so much for finding him,” the then unnamed tall, blond man, with blue eyes filled with relief said, digging through his wallet. “No sum of money can make up for this, but please accept this.”

 

Q tried to turn down the money and he was sure that he had managed to shove them back inside the man’s shirt, but when he undressed to get a shower before bed, a thick wad of cash fell out and he suspected that the boy might have slipped it in his back pocket when he gave him that extra tight hug at the end.

 

One week and a decent laptop later, he was climbing the only tree in front of his apartment building to convince the sulking boy to get down and call his father to pick him up. “Really, this is not a neighbourhood for rich kids,” he grumbled and tried his best not to think about how much it would hurt the kid if he fell from that height.

 

“I don’t care,” the boy shot back and scooted closer to the edge of the branch, Q’s heart jumping out when he felt the tree wobble under them. “You’re the one climbing the tree for me, not my stupid father.”

 

Slowly, carefully, Q sat on the other side of the branch and calculated if he was close enough to grab the boy and pull him to safety. “In your so called stupid father’s defence, I live in the building right next to this tree and you did call out for me.”

 

“But you’re _here_ ,” the boy insisted, pouting and crossing his arms over his chest – and Q’s heart and stomach did another flip at that. “He’s my dad and he’s _not_.”

 

“Kid, to be a rich kid, your dad has to work and to be honest you got lucky that I was even home today to begin with.” Okay, so his arms where too short to reach the boy, but if he dived after him, he might be able to use himself as a sort of mattress. It was going to hurt like hell and he would rather not think of the injuries that would follow, but the kid would be safe.

 

“He works too much,” the boy grumbled.

 

“Adults need to work to keep their children fed, clothed, in a decent house with electricity and all the other little things such as gas and water, and most importantly, happy. There’s a really high probability that if he stopped working, you might end up living in a place worse than this building and, given time, in a box on the street.”

 

The boy seemed to mull over something and then looked at Q with puffy, red eyes. “I don’t want to live like that but I am not happy; I want dad home more often. And so does my brother.”

 

Q almost fell out of the three. “Brother? What brother? How old is your brother? _Where_ is your brother?” He asked, looking desperately around. One rich kid in his neighbourhood was headache enough; two was an outright disaster especially if he didn’t have his eyes on him.

 

“His legs are shorter than mine and Alec caught him before he reached the front door,” the boy muttered and Q sighed in relief, resting his head against the tree’s trunk. He was going to count that as the only good news so far for that day. “I’m hungry,” the kid added and got within arm’s length.

 

However, Q decided that it would be for the best if the child came to him out of his own free will. “Well tough, because I don’t have any food on me.” The kid’s stomach actually rumbled in protest of that. “But I am sure that your father will buy you some food on his way here if you simply call him and tell him where you are.” The boy shook his head and started to munch on some leaves. “You’re going to get sick if you keep eating those.”

 

“I don’t care,” the little demon grumbled and hugged the tree trunk just in case Q wanted to drag him down. “And they are quite delicious.”

 

An idea entered Q’s mind and he started to slowly slide down. “Then enjoy your leaves and when your teeth start clattering after the sun goes down, do try to do it in a silent way because I have some coding to do. Oh and bats like to sleep in this tree, but I am sure that they won’t get in your hair.” He was allowed to scoot down one more millimetre before he had a boy clinging to his head. “Call your dad, or I’m letting you turn into a Popsicle up here.”

 

The boy hugged him tighter. “Dad’s not in the country, but I’ll call Alec and he’ll pick me up.”

 

Q grinned and very carefully got down from the tree, struggling a bit afterwards to get the boy to let him go so he could dust him off and make sure that he wasn’t hurt – and to also get him to spit out the bloody leaves that might have been covered in toxic gas meant to keep pests away. “By the way, what’s your name?”

 

“Jamie,” the boy sniffled, looking at Q’s hand until the man got his hint and offered him his hand. “What’s yours?”

 

“Quinn Desmond Daniel Boothroyd,” he introduced himself and little James blinked slowly, mouth moving without a single word coming out. “You can call me ‘Q’,” he offered and the child all but sighed in relief.

 

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Q,” a man with a slight Russian accent said from behind and Q turned around as fast as he could, hiding his small friend. But the man’s imposing and scary attitude lessened a little when Q noticed the child that was resting on his shoulders, little green eyes glaring daggers through him. “J, your father is blowing a—”

 

“You left me!” The little boy exploded and was behind Q before he could blink. “You said we’d go here together to meet him and you left me!” He was now outright crying and Q kneeled before him, using his sleeve as a napkin. “You—you—you—”

 

“Small breaths first and then accuse your brother of treachery,” Q instructed, now rubbing his back. “Can you tell me what your name is so we can officially meet each other?”

 

It took a bit, but the boy did eventually managed to hiccup a ‘Victor’ and then clung to his legs, still crying even as his brother tried to soothe him and apologize in a way that didn’t sound very apologetic – ‘I was freezing in a tree and you were warm in the car!’ and ‘I ate leaves and I see chocolate marks around your mouth!’ certainly came out more as accusations than anything else – and the driver hovered around them, scaring everyone who stared for more than a second at them.

 

“My thanks are Mister Bond’s thanks,” he said when the two boys were safely tucked inside the now locked car. “And please accept—”

 

“Nothing,” Q interrupted him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Well, maybe a promise that you’ll keep a closer eye on them as they might decide to run somewhere else the next time.”

 

The man grinned, no shame whatsoever in shoving the wad of cash down his shirt. “I do my best, but I am the bodyguard, not the babysitter. The name’s Alec.”

 

Q shook his hand, slipping the wad of money up his sleeve. “Fire the babysitter.”

 

Alec snorted. “The children make them quit before their first week is up which is why I’m currently multitasking.”

 

It wasn’t hard to imagine Jamie doing that, but it was so obvious _why_ that Q couldn’t hold back making a little compassionate noise. “I do hope you get a new one that they can stomach before they decide to ‘visit’ me again and get unlucky enough not to find me here.”

 

He made to leave, but Alec grabbed his hand and shook it again. “The entire Bond estate will double its effort not to allow them to endanger themselves or bother you again, Mister Q.” He shoved the wad of money back down his shirt and drove away before Q even finished his first cuss.

 

Yet, despite Alec’s reassurance, Q found himself sitting in his pyjamas on the curb not even a week later, the two boys fast asleep against him. This time they had been chased out of their home by their new babysitter, a horrible woman by the name of Irma Bunt who did not care one bit that Victor had a nightmare and wanted a hug and to sleep in his elder brother’s bed as their father was still away.

 

Q had come outside with a carton of milk and bag of cookies, making the two of them huddle together so he could wrap his best blanket around them, ruffling their hairs as he started telling them the story of the latest game he was fixing – leaving out the scary parts – in hopes of getting them to forget about horrible Irma.

 

He allowed his teeth to start chattering the second he saw a fancy car pull up. “Mister Alec, please tell me that it didn’t take you this long to realize that they were missing.”

 

But from the car poured the dashing Mister Bond, dressed in a suit that hugged his body just in the right places, looking more apologetic rather than frantic and scared out of his mind. “I really don’t mean for my children to impose on you all the time, Mister Boothroyd.”

 

It took Q’s brain a moment to register that the man had already picked up his two treasures and that he was covering their little faces in kisses, muttering what might have been apologies in their ears. It made Q miss his father and mother so much, may God rest their souls.

 

“They’re not imposing that much, Mister Bond,” he said with a bit of uncertainty in regards to the man’s name.

 

“Mister Boothroyd—”

 

“His name is Q,” Jaime muttered, rubbing his eyes. “Daddy, you came back.”

 

The man’s smile lit up the night and Q felt obligated to take a few steps away from this intimate moment, also turning his back to them. “Of course I came back, darling. I’ll always come back.”

 

“Victor dreamt that you didn’t,” Jaime said with so much fear in his voice that Q’s own heart almost broke.

 

Mister Bond kissed his son’s head again. “Dreams rarely mean anything, darling. I am alive and breathing right here, holding you and your brother, and watching Mister Boothroyd turning into an ice-cube because of you two.”

 

“Daddy, his name is Q,” Victor chimed in, probably already asleep by how slurred his voice had been.

 

The man chuckled and, after depositing his children in the car, tapped Q’s shoulder. “May I call you ‘Q’, Mister Boothroyd? I am afraid that my children will wake up every time I call you otherwise,” he joked and Q chuckled.

 

“Yes, Q is just fine, Mister Bond.” He shook the man’s hand and, as expected, he ended up with another wad of money. “Mister Bond, you really have to stop doing this,” he muttered and started to chase the man around, trying to give him the money back.

 

“But, Q, I insist! You took care of my children when you didn’t have to.” He stopped suddenly and Q bumped into his muscled chest, face instantly turning red. “Actually, you wouldn’t happen to have any preparation when it comes to taking care of children, would you.”

 

Arranging his glasses, Q took a moment to picture of the most disgusting thing he could think of so he could return to his normal colour. “Unless they are made of code or of gears and wires, I am afraid that you are barking up at the wrong tree.”

 

Mister Bond hummed, clasping his hands behind his back. “Are you working in a domain that calls upon these talents of yours? And how much does your boss pay you?”

 

Very strange questions and Q couldn’t really understand their place here even if the man was trying to find out who this person was that his kids kept running to. “I make games, but I am not comfortable talking about how much I make this late at night, with a stranger, while I am sitting on the curb in my pyjamas.”

 

The man chuckled and pulled out a business card. “When you put it like that, it does sound like I am soliciting you. Which is not what I am trying to do,” he added quickly, rubbing the back of his neck and still waiting for Q to take the card. “I want to see if I can convince you to work as my babysitter.”

 

“Aren’t you a bit too old for a babysitter?” Q joked, turning the card in his hand. It felt really expensive, despite the fact that the name of the company Mister Bond worked for – Universal Exports – didn’t make him think of anything. Then again, he didn’t know the name of the company that was exporting the games he slaved over or the name of the company that provided them with music, so it really didn’t mean anything.

 

“You might be too young to be a babysitter and people might think I had a third son hidden somewhere that I had when I was fifteen,” Mister Bond shot back, a little smile on his lips – Q knew what sort of dreams he was going to have that morning and he was more than eager to get them. “So, Mister—”

 

“Dad, his name is Q,” Jaime shouted, half-hanging out the car’s window, trying really hard to glare and not yawn. “Call him Q,” the boy insisted and Q barely held back from going over to him to pull him into a hug.

 

“Q,” Mister Bond corrected himself, shaking his head, “could I get you to meet with me tomorrow at 1 in the afternoon for a talk over lunch? I promise to do my best to get you to work for me.”

 

Mister Bond didn’t have to try too hard, Q being ready to accept the job the second he saw how he looked dressed in a dark navy blue suit – in all honesty, everyone had their superficial moments and it was kind of impossible not to have that when a man who could have easily made a career in modelling. But he had enough self-control to keep from jumping over the table and shake the man’s hand until everything was discussed.

 

He made it clear that he had no training when it came to kids, but yes he could cook if needed – they had a private cook, so no need to worry about that – he was sure that he wasn’t going to have any problems helping the children with their homework as he had the ability to learn pretty fast, he didn’t have any criminal record, and he was pretty sure that he could handle the two boys.

 

“I have no doubt about that as they do run to you when they are distressed,” Mister Bond said softly, patting Q’s hand. “And they were so dead set on me getting you to work for us that they even agreed to be on their best behaviour until the contract is signed.”

 

Q arched his eyebrow. “Should I be worried about that? What happens after we sign the contract?”

 

Mister Bond grinned, resting his chin on his hands. “You’ll have to give me a month’s notice so I can find another poor soul to act as Cerberus for my little hellions.”

 

“Not surprisingly, that’s not really making me feel any better,” muttered Q, taking a hefty sip of his tea and his future boss just laughed, patting his hand again – rough and yet soft and Q just wanted to push his face against the palm of his hand. “Mister Bond, are you sure about this? The children might like me only in small doses and I will still look for a job in my field of expertise.”      

 

“There’s nothing to worry about and I will not stop you,” Mister Bond promised.

 

“I’m gay,” Q blurted out and took a step back, holding his arms in front of his face just in case the man decided that he was somehow hitting on  him by being honest about his sexual preference and try to punch him.

 

He flinched when he felt the man claps his hands, but the pain never came. “Mister Boothroyd, I do not care about that.” He gently squeezed his hands until Q opened one eye to look at him and then blinded him with a dazzling smile that surely had everyone who got it go weak in the knees. “So will you discuss the possibility of becoming their nanny with me tomorrow? You pick where you want to meet.”

 

Since no alarm bells were going off, Q agreed and the following day they were having a serious discussion in the middle of a McDonald’s, his friends sitting a table away just in case it turned out that the blond man was a few chapters short of a complete book.

 

Luckily enough, Mister Bond was more than sane and generous and a contract was signed the following day. Two weeks later, Q was carefully mapping out his new house with the two children glued to his sides, stumbling over their own words in their rush to present him the house while their father and Alec carried his luggage.

 

“He’s going to sleep with me because I found him,” Jamie argued with Victor and tried to tug Q in the direction of his room.

 

That had Victor wrap himself around his legs, almost tripping him. “But I threw the fit that got that to hire him.”

 

His new boss stepped in then, magically pulling Victor free from Q’s legs and crouching down next to Jamie, tapping his nose. “Mister— Q,” he corrected himself when he saw the way his children were glaring at him – which was really adorable because Mister Bond didn’t look like the type who would bend to anyone’s will no matter what they did to him, “is not your pet. He is your new nanny and you will respect him.”

 

“Plus, maybe you father wants him to sleep in his room,” Alec chimed in and then turned white and groaned due to Mister Bond ‘accidentally’ stepping on his foot with all of his weight.

 

Q quickly learned that Alec had a really unique sense of humour and that he was Mister Bond’s friend first and bodyguard second, that he had been in the special Russian forces, and that he was anything but a morning person if he was woken up by anyone else other than Jamie and Victor.

 

Now Mister Bond was… perfect. The man had a suit for every day of the year that fitted so good Q thought they were painted on, he cooked better than a five-star chef – and he knew this for sure because Mister Bond took him out to dinner to the fanciest restaurant in London to officialise the contract and to celebrate the fact that he hadn’t been chased out by his children – carried heavy objects like they were made out of feathers, and despite his sappy and lame lines, Q saw how many women – and some men – he had wrapped around his little finger.

 

And yes, he was one of the people wrapped around that finger even if the man only dated women. Insipid, gold-diggers, and lacking in the knowledge department if it didn’t have anything to do with money and all trying way too hard to get to meet the children – which they never did because Mister Bond introduced them to him first and then ending the relationship if he so much as narrowed his eyes – but women nonetheless.

 

As for the children, they were the most adorable little devils in the universe. They just loved building things with him – they bought new toasters and microwaves on a daily basis – and they hanged on his every word. That didn’t mean that they actually _listened_ to everything they told him and getting them to bed at the right time was not an easy task.

 

They also had a huge issue with him going on vacation, the poor dears thinking that he would never return. They constantly tried to stuff themselves in his bags and when they were found out, they threatened to run away ‘to Siberia’.

 

“Make sure to dig through my sock drawer for the key to the safe house I have there before you do that,” Alec said each and every time without looking away from his newspaper, not even bothering to pretend to flinch when Q pinched his ear.

 

“You’ll be going to Alaska after them _on foot_ if they take a single step out of this house without my knowledge,” Mister Bond growled, kicking his friend. “And then you’ll move to the Sahara until you turned into sand yourself.”

 

But even with Alec’s less than helpful intervention and Mister Bond’s failed attempts at bribery, Q still managed to pacify the children and blackmail into acting decent enough not to make the temporary nanny head for the hills after one hour with them.

 

“ _Alec informs me that they are perfect little angels_ ,” Mister Bond’s usual report started. “ _And that makes me wonder how much he is being paid to cover for them this time_.” As always, Q chuckled and then he was bombarded with all sorts of questions about the way his vacation was going, somehow ending up getting a free upgrade to what his boss called ‘an agreeable place’ and Q referred to as ‘heaven that I’d never afford on my own’.

 

The only other places which had Q subtly pinch his arm to make sure that he hadn’t fallen asleep watching a show about old European castles – Alec pinching his sides just to let him know that truly nothing escapes him except for Jamie because he was his father’s son, whatever that meant – were the places Mister Bond rented for when they all went on a vacation together.

 

Of course, Q insisted that he be left home when that happened because why would he need the nanny when they were on vacations together? But strangely enough Mister Bond always said he had an important meeting that he needed to attend and the children always threatened to really run away if he wasn’t there to take care of them and the meeting in question was always just one hour long.

 

“He made me fly for nein hours just so he could have one bloody cocktail in Tahiti,” Q complained to Alec the first time it happened, as white and as shaky as he had been when he had stepped off the plane, emptying the glass of brandy in one gulp. “I wonder if this is revenge because I took apart the engine to his car when Victor dropped a marble in it.”

 

Chuckling, Alec poured him another glass. “I can assure you that Mister Bond didn’t intend to make this a punishment, Q. And he has no control over how long these meetings run, honestly,” he lied through his teeth, but at least from then on, Mister Bond always made sure to have something on the plane to distract him or pills to keep him calm.       

 

But the rest of these vacations were pretty fun, all of them enjoying themselves on the beach with the kids and Mister Bond either building sandcastles or turning Q into a sand mermaid and Alec into a turtle after he fell asleep. It wasn’t so fun when Q managed to get sunburned so much that he looked like a lobster and whimpered when Mister Bond tried to gently put aloe cream on him or yogurt.  

 

“This happens every time,” the man gently scolded him, looking apologetic when Q flinched and groaned. “You’d think you’d remember to first put lotion on yourself before you bathe the rest of us in it.”

 

“I can’t have you suddenly peel in front of your investors,” Q grumbled, hiding his face in his pillow so his boss wouldn’t see him pout. “And you know that I have to put a bottle on each per day because Jamie acts as if he’s allergic to shadows and Victor refuses to come out of the water until he can easily rival a dried up prune.”

 

Mister Bond clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “And it seems that my nanny wants to rival a lobster.”

 

“I still think you’re too old for a nanny, Mister Bond,” Q teased, sending his boss a glare when an ice cube found its way on his lower back. “Then again, you’re the most ‘mature’ person I know. I expect you to drag me to your room with a flashlight so I can check under your bed for monsters”

 

Eyes narrowed, Mister Bond shoved a cube down his trunks. “Just remember those words the next time you ask me for a raise, Q.” He never did, but Mister Bond always gave him one on top of bonuses for random things – he one got a bonus because it was Monday and the children left for school with a smile on their faces. “And we both know which one of us comes to whose room because of monsters.”

 

“Yes,” Q agreed, jumping around to get what was left of the ice cube out of his pants. “Your children, who could easily be football players with how well they can kick.”

 

But this wasn’t to say that he didn’t have their rough moments, which usually happened whenever Mister Bond informed them that he was going away on an extended trip – to this day, Q still didn’t know what his boss did exactly, but he was worried whenever he caught a glimpse of an angry bruise or bandaged chest or limb – and they constantly tried to sneak away either in his bags – for which they were too big – or in the trunk of his car.

 

He soldiered through those moments and did his best to distract them, bundling them up when they snuck in his bed and inventing all sorts of stories that put them to sleep during stormy nights as they had the tendency to sleep with their father when that happened. And his heart just broke whenever one of the children had a nightmare and woke up calling for their father.

 

“We’ll leave him a voicemail, darlings, and he will call us as soon as he can,” Q tried to shoot them, kissing their temples before starting to check every possible dark corner of his room for monsters.

 

“Make sure to check under the bed again,” Victor muttered, hugging Q so tightly that he was actually starting to see little white spots. “Actually, can you ask Alec to—?”

 

“No,” Q interrupted him and plopped him back on the bed, covering him and giving him his torchlight. “Alec is sleeping—”

 

“On the floor next to you three with a baseball bat, yes, yes,” Alec grumbled, dragging his feet and blanket as he walked in. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t have rusty nails in it, Q,” he intervened before Q could say anything, pushing him in the bed and throwing himself on the floor. “And, V?” He waited until green eyes peeked at him over the bed’s edge. “Please don’t confuse me with a monster again. My back still hurts from the last time you did that.”

 

And yet, those weren’t the most awkward nights. No, those nights where when Q balanced on the edge of Mister Bond’s bed with the man snoring lightly two kids to his right. Worse still was the fact that every morning after a night spent like that, he woke up plastered against his boss, nuzzling his neck because his brain refused to work properly until after his second mug of tea.

 

He always started to hiccup when he realized who he was rubbing up against. “If I pray for a heart attack and I am actually given one, could you please not resuscitate me?” He pleaded and his very comfortable and well-toned boss – who still had his arms wrapped around him, mind you – just chuckled, the warm breath that rushed over his ear almost making him lose what little control he had over himself at that hour and in that position.

 

“Not on your life, Q,” Mister Bond would whisper, patting his messy hair. “You’re the best of the best and I wouldn’t let you die if your life depended on it.”   

 

He had tried to explain how that didn’t make any sense the first time the sleepy man uttered that nonsensical sentence, but by now he’d simply groan and try to roll away, moment in which the children would come running in. And no matter how many times they were warned, they would still jump on the bed with the clear intent of hitting them with the pillow, Mister Bond pulling Q under him, completely covering him.

 

“If we sit still long enough, they’ll get bored and go torment Alec,” he instructed and with those lips against his neck, fingers entangled in his hair, body almost flush against his minus the pillow against his backside that the man always managed to sneak in, Q would give the two boys everything he owned he they continued to attack them for eternity.

 

Thankfully, the children were quick to grown out of bedtime stories and monsters under their beds/ in their closets. They had also reduced their trips to their father’s room to just once a year and since it was on the exact same day, Q had a pretty idea why and never asked or pointed out that they were getting too old. He’d just hug them and help the slightly tipsy and obviously depressed Mister Bond tucking them in between them, biting his tongue and mentally kicking himself so he wouldn’t also wrap himself around his boss and assure him that everything would turn out just fine.

 

And then on that horny note, there was the more personal level, where his lack of a love or sex life could also be grouped with the bad things. And yes, about this he was silently complaining because he had forgotten what an orgasm induced by someone else felt like and he wasn’t so sure that he knew how to even kiss, as the children, Alec, or Mister Bond himself had the knack to interrupt him just when things were starting to get interesting.

 

The second the dinner was over, his phone would ring and it was always ‘Jamie took my book, come back and tell me to give it’, or ‘Victor unplugged my game, so come back to ground him’ followed by five minutes of whining that killed any mood Q might have had. A cab ride later, the kids were both grounded in their rooms, he was sulking on the sofa, dressed in his pyjamas, and ignoring the text message that announced the end of their relationship.  

 

Alec would be cleaning his weapon on the armchair opposite of him. “Just give me the word and they’ll never find his body,” he’d say in such a way that made Q’s blood run cold.

 

At least Mister Bond was a little bit more comforting and kind enough to bring him a mug of his favourite tea. “You were too good for him anyway, Q.” He’d then say something stupid that the other did but Q ignored because he was willing to compromise, drape a blanket around his shoulder and then play Q’s favourite movie. “I’m sure that you’ll eventually find the one that’ll deserve to sweep you off your feet.”

 

Not that the two men weren’t experts when it came to cockblocking. Sometimes it was Alec who busted down the door of the decent restaurant he was dining in because something horrible had happened to the kids – scratches, bumps, bruises, or their favourite shirt for that month got dirty – but more often than not, it was Mister Bond.

 

Now Mister Bond didn’t actually rush through the door. No, he waltzed in with the same woman who looked far too irritated to truly be enjoying the date they were on – Q suspected it was because their relationship was an on and off type of things, which was really strange since the children knew her – and managed to turn the whole thing into a double date that always ended with Q throwing his drink in his partner’s face because he was either hitting on the lovely Miss Moneypenny or on Mister Bond.

 

“At least someone is getting something tonight,” he bitterly mumbled to whom he always thought to be Alec, head resting on the mahogany bar at home.

 

“Statistically speaking,” Mister Bond spoke up, grabbing Q’s arm before he could fall off the stool, “you are right. But that man is so dumb that I am sure he has to pay his own hands to touch him.” He would then make Q one of his interesting cocktails that went just fine with whatever delicious thing he cooked for him and then sat down with him to watch his favourite TV series.

 

“Did I do anything wrong?” present Mister Bond asked, looking as much as a kicked puppy as his eldest did whenever he wanted something.

 

“No, Mister Bond,” Q said carefully, smiling. “Everything was like a dream, but I finally found a job in my field and we both know that the boys are getting too old to have a nanny and that you’re going to have to fire me soon.”

 

The man huffed. “As if I’d ever fire you,” he grumbled. “I’ll just promote you to ‘Lord over technology’ since you fix and improve everything in this house anyway, at no extra cost even.”

 

“I did that out of pleasure to make sure that I don’t lose my touch, Mister Bond—”

 

“You’ll never lose your job in my home,” the man assured him, squeezing Q’s hand. “I’ll triple what they’re paying you and twice what you’re getting right now,” he breathed out, looking more than determined. “Actually, ask me anything and I will give it to you, but don’t leave m—my children.”

 

He refused to have this conversation only because Mister Bond’s desperate look was killing him and because if he allowed the man to continue insisting, he was going to cave in. “I am officially presenting you with my one month’s notice.” He held the papers out to the man, hitting him with them over the head and then dropping them on the table when he realized that the man wasn’t planning on touching them. “Just because you don’t acknowledge them doesn’t mean that they don’t exist. And before you even think about shredding it, I made copies of it, both physical and digital.”

 

His future former boss pushed the papers off the keyboard and returned to pretending to work, openly glaring at his computer screen. “I am going to assume by the fact that we didn’t have to tie them to the airplane seats that the children don’t know about this decision just yet?”

 

Leave it to Mister Bond to give him a low blow. “This type of conversation is not to be had when someone is about to have fun.” Plus, he was still bracing himself for that conversation, having already rewritten his explanation and goodbye speech eleven times.  “I know it’s going to gravely upset them—”

 

“Then don’t quit,” Mister Bond said quickly, closing his laptop. “Stay on as their nanny and work as a programmer.” He walked around the desk and rested his hand on Q’s shoulders, starting to rub them a little. “I can convert one of the many rooms into your office and that will save you a lot of time and money since you wouldn’t be moving out and you won’t have to take the bus to some godforsaken building in the shady part of town where your boss will work you like a slave and where the food will give you indigestion.”

 

Q groaned. “I still need to find an apartment.”

 

“No you don’t,” Mister Bond chimed in, leaning to whisper in his ear. “Your room in here is bigger than any good apartment in a crime-free zone and it is rent free.” He squeezed Q’s shoulders when he heard the man click his tongue, trying to calm him down. “Or I can buy you a house which you can rent out until my nieces and nephews have their own children.”

 

Well, if Q had any doubts about Mister Bond having bigger separation anxiety than his children or that he had abandonment issues, that line more than set things straight. “I am pretty sure that Jamie and Victor will move out way before they get married. And don’t say they don’t because they’ll still need their nanny when they are 99 years old because I am not gullible like your previous date to that charity ball.”  

 

The massage got more intense and if Q didn’t know the man’s tastes, he would think that he was giving him an awkward hug. “If I start going alone to balls and galas, will you accept my offers and stay?”

 

Strangely enough, Q was sure that he was going to miss the headache he was currently having.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind comments and kudos. 
> 
> I still don't know where this is going, but please continue to enjoy it.

“You can’t find any legal loophole that will allow you to lock him in this house,” Alec pointed out. “Just accept the fact that he’s leaving, pick the people who are to be his security detail from now on until the end of time, and start searching for another nanny even though your children realistically stopped needing one about a year ago.”

 

James was seriously thinking about throwing his glass of whiskey at Alec’s head because he refused to be useful. “Why do I bother talking with you?”

 

Alec batted his eyelashes. “Is it because you love my quirky sense of humour?” He met James’ glare and then turned serious. “Are you sure he knew you were serious when you were throwing money and houses at him?”

 

Q could tell when he was joking and when he was being serious. Come to think about it, Q could tell when he was lying and when he was being truthful and not because he was starting to be horrible at his actual job in his later years – but Q was also smart enough to know when it was for the best to pretend that he believed what he was being told.

 

“He did,” he grumbled, rubbing his temples. “I’ve just been cursed with someone who doesn’t want to take advantage of a desperate man.”

 

His friend let out a long sight which annoyed him to no end. “Now I can’t say that you have horrible taste in everything because of Q,” he whined, arm thrown over his face.

 

James pinched the bridge of his nose, regretting the choices of his past. “If I had come in that room one second later, I wouldn’t be forced to sit here and listen to your insults.”

 

“Yes and have you done that, you have died at least ten times if I hadn’t been able to shout or make a quip that distracted your enemies from your loud ass,” Alec reminded him. “But back to your Q problem, now that I think about it, your attempted bribes must have been seen as an insult.” That would be James’ luck, wouldn’t it? “Especially since he is that rare type of person capable of coming back from a private island with a frown that wasn’t caused by bad service, but because he was on said island in the first place.”

 

“I bet that time it was because of the plane ride,” James insisted on lying to himself, frowning. “I should have had my private plane take him there and make sure that my own private masseur—” Tall, blond, muscly man with magical fingers and that gave off bisexual vibes which meant that this was a horrible idea. “ _I_ should have tagged along to give him a massage to distract him. That and buy him the cottage he stayed in so he would feel like he was at home.”

 

Then again, that might not have worked because Q actually returned the car he had bought him this year for his birthday and somehow managed to deposit the money back in his account. “I don’t even have a bloody driver’s licence and no, I do not plan on getting one while yours is still valid,” he had seethed at him, poking his chest with that slender finger of his.

 

He had entwined their fingers together, smiling even as Q continued to glare. “I had already picked up the perfect personal driver for you.”

 

Though Q had worked for him for 5 years, he still didn’t know when he was supposed to keep his trap shut until after it was too late and a small vein showed itself on the younger man’s forehead. “If I still had the car, I would spend the next week trying to find a way to shove it up your—”

 

“Q! Jaime won’t give me back my game,” Victor’s screech saved him and James made sure to get his sons those gaming consoles he had planned on pretending that he wouldn’t buy until his birthday.

 

But Q still gave him that glare that _promised_ he wasn’t out of the woods just yet and later that night, James was ordered in his office so his employee could hiss-explain where a line had to be drawn, why getting him a car was a horrible idea and why he couldn’t have a personal driver.

 

And of course James continued to dig his own grave by being dumb enough to open his mouth and suggest that in lieu of the car, he maybe should get him an apartment or house somewhere close to his estate for when he retired and the initial rant extended to three hours and a slideshow.

 

 “Why couldn’t he be interested in money like everyone else?” James lamented, ditching the glass in favour of drinking directly from the bottle.

 

Alec hummed, drumming his fingers against his chin. “Because then he wouldn’t be Q and you wouldn’t be head over hills for him. Now here’s another crazy idea: why don’t you just tell him why you want him to stick around even though the darling spawns don’t need one anymore? And make sure you tell him the whole truth and then, like the gallant arse that I know you can be from our missions together, catch him as soon as he faints.”

 

James snorted. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I have no ulterior motive other than the fact that I want him safe and I don’t trust anyone but myself and you with keeping him safe.” Not after he almost got kidnapped on his first vacation.

 

One of his biggest fears as an agent was that the people he went up against would catch wind of his family and find a way to use them against him – it was for that reason why he had actually started to use the pseudonyms provided by MI6 after he became a father.

 

So when one such villain casually pulled out a picture of Q coming out of a dump that was a sneeze away from crashing down, his blood turned cold and the world started to slowly turn red. “My sources,” the soon to be dead fool said in a smooth voice, “tell me that this young man is very important to you. Wouldn’t it be a shame if he were to lose those pretty little green eyes of his? Or if those slender fingers were to accidentally break?”

 

“Yes, a real shame,” James said in the most calm manner possible, deaf to everything but the low ringing in his ears. By the time he was done with the bastard, they identified him by his blood type.

 

So it was only logical that after coming so close to losing the man worshipped by everyone in the Bond family, that he would make sure to have him shipped off to locations that were under MI6’s watchful eye. The fact that he wanted Q to have the best things in the universe came in second.

 

“You were using the children as a shield earlier in this conversation,” Alec sing sang and James did a double take because he swore he saw Miss Moneypenny for a moment. “You make a terrible agent—”

 

“The fact that my children still need him was implied.” James interrupted him, not sulking in the least.

 

“Of course they do,” Alec said in an overly dramatic way. “Your _children_ need him, not your enamoured ass!” He dissolved in a fit of laughter, uncaring that James was slapping his back as hard as he could. “Listen, by this point, your dead parents,” he lowered his head and made a quick cross, “know you really feel about Q, so respect me enough not to pull this act. Only Q would fall for it since only Q has no idea that he’s the reason you haven’t dated men since he appeared into your life or that, again, he’s why all of your female companions have to have brown hair and green eyes.” 

 

Somehow, hearing that made him even more depressed and thirsty for alcohol. Q had caught his eye ten minutes after he had recovered Jaime and his brain finally started to process something else besides the basic ‘my child is safe’ and he gave himself a mental kick for not asking the man for his name. He still found out who he was, what he did, where he lived, and what schools he finished the second he set foot in his house and was done not-quite grounding his son, but it wasn’t the same.

 

By the time Jamie ran away for the second time, he had managed to somehow develop an itch of sorts, made more unbearable when the IT branch gave him access to the video fee in front of Q’s apartment – he _felt_ that his son was going to bolt over to him – and saw just how _interesting_ the man looked going up and down a tree – he blamed Alec’s influence for those mental images.

 

But his lusting aside – which he was sure it was going to go away the second he was done with this mission and the mad scientist’s wife – the man was good with children, obviously cared for them, and Jaime clearly liked him because his son was smart enough to never go three times in the same place if he was found the first time and yet he bolted for Q’s place the second he got upset. And Victor took a liking to him as well so he really insisted on hiring Q just because he had a good control of his children and his children liked him and seemed inclined to listen to what he said.

 

And then all pretence went out the window when he saw how he looked in the morning, hair messier than normal, glasses askew because he kept rubbing his eyes every five seconds, walking around fully disoriented in a pair of pyjamas that somehow managed to be cute and hot at the same time. Then the whole picture turned warm and ‘homey’ when he saw Victor clinging to Q’s shirt, Jaime hot on their heels, complaining until he was picked up by the poor, sleepy twig of a nanny.

 

“The way the women are just a coincidence, but I’ll admit to you that I have an interest in him as a person,” James conceded before he could start to remember how he had found out that the twig in question actually had muscles and was ticklish. “But not to him. He’s a civilian and he’s not interested in—”

 

Alec started laughing before he could even finish his idea. “Okay, I own Miss Moneypenny fifty quid because you do need the glasses more than Q does.” He pulled out his phone and started searching for a picture. “Wait, wait, I have a few pictures in here with the way he was looking at you on your last vacation together.”

 

Before he could argue, Alec was pushing his phone in his face and flipping through a set of photos in which Q was looking strangely at him and yes, if the phone was pushed back just a bit so he could actually focus on the man’s pale face – which lasted like that for only half a day before Q got, once again, sunburned – he saw _interest_ written all over it. And then a bit of jealousy on his female ‘business partner’ – KGB agent who owed him one so she agreed to play the role as an excuse from him to drag Q along – and then pure love when he looked at the children.

 

“You should really stop acting like an agent unless you want me to drag you to M’s office by your balls and force the 006 title back down your throat,” James warned and then grabbed Alec’s phone, sending himself all the pictures of Q he found. “And Q would be more than freaked if he knew you were taking snapshots of— Oh, he’s posing in these ones,” he muttered, distracted by the one in which he adorably flexed his muscles and the one in which he had draped himself over the deckchair, winking as he sipped from his cocktail.

 

Q could have easily been a model, but James couldn’t be happier about his initial career choice if he tried because he would have simply hooked up for him for one night and then nothing else. Okay so maybe another dance between the sheets or two if Q’s skin would have retained its softness and warmness, but he wouldn’t have flirted with the idea of trying an actual relationship with the man – he wasn’t planning on actually doing it now even if he knew how warm, soft, sweet, smart, and loving he was, but at least he was thinking it.

 

“Should I leave you alone with my phone?” He took a sip from his glass unfazed by the kick he got. “You’ll get me a new phone even if I don’t leave you alone with it.”

 

James threw Alec’s phone back at his head. “I am not that much of a creep, Alec.” The few times in which he gave in to his imagination and Q joined his shower, he had done it without any visual aid. It was just him remembering how the younger man looked in his bathrobe after that being caught in a tropical storm and it was decided that the wind was too powerful for him to reach his own cottage and then adding a little bit to the memory by having the kids staying with Alec and Q deciding that the bathrobe was too stuffy and that James had been bitten by a venomous snake.

 

“Which, when taking into consideration that you’re a secret agent, isn’t saying much,” Alec reminded him despite James currently employing alcohol to get his brain to forget that part of his life. “Let’s face it: we’re unable to actually act like normal people. You have a compulsive need to do a background check on everyone that interacts with you, your children, and who even remotely looks in the direction of your nanny, while I can’t fall asleep without checking on all the doors and windows.”

 

Was the headache he was feeling right now the same one Q claimed to have whenever he acted like Alec was right now? And since when had Alec started being the one that was the voice of reason? “I am counting those unnatural habits as wins since no one has been kidnapped and no one has broken in.” He glanced at Alec’s phone for a moment, some questions gnawing the back of his mind.

 

Questions which, despite no being a psychic, Alec knew. “No one but you and Q saw those pictures.” James let out a sigh of relief. “Oh and three of Q’s failed dates.” James was definitely having a heart attack. “But not 009, so you can stop plotting his death.”

 

“Thank God for little favours,” James breathed out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

If there was any man on this planet that James utterly despised for no reason associated with terrorism and unnecessary killings, then it was 009. The man was younger than him, his lines on his targets worked just a fraction of a second faster than his – and yes, he timed that – the Quartermaster constantly used him as a good example, M liked him, Eve liked him, and the bloody bastard bumped into them while he was out shopping with Q so then his nanny liked him.

 

Worse still, 009 liked Q in return and he was dumb enough to approach James about it while they both had live munition. “So, is your nanny just your nanny or can I get his phone number?”

 

“He’s my children’s nanny,” replied James as he shot the target five times in the exact same spot – the crouch. “And I don’t have his phone number,” he lied, reloading his weapon and glaring at Miss Moneypenny for ruining his aim.

 

009 missed that – and yet, he was still considered a very good double oh agent. “You don’t have the phone number of the person in charge of your children?” The so-called agent asked incredulously. “But what is something happens to them?”

 

“I don’t and it won’t because Q is good at his job.” And how dare he imply different?

 

“I didn’t mean to say that he wasn’t,” 009 added quickly, finally understanding that Eve was clearing her throat for an entirely different reason than the beginning of a cold. “But what if he gets hurt and—”

 

“Alec is there and he won’t let _anything_ happen to either Q or my children,” James said slowly and coldly, 009’s no longer touching the ground. “Should I continue to spell things out for you, _junior_?”

 

The agent was saved from certain death by Eve, of course and although M intended for the one month suspension that followed the attack to be a punishment for him, James enjoyed the hell out of it by going to Austria with Q and his children, teaching the younger man how to ski – his children already knew how to do that and, upon their insistence, Q also ended up learning how to skate, which James enjoyed even more due to how much Q had clung to him.

 

And now Alec expected him to lose everything by telling something as ridiculous as the truth! He could picture the many ways that would end and in the best case scenario, Q walked out on him, laughing. But was more worried that in one of the many worst case scenario, Q was being arrested under the suspicion of being a double agent and that in another one, he was taking his children away and waiting for a restraining order.

 

“That’s not going to work,” he breathed out, shaking and clutching the bottle tight enough to crack it. “Convince R or the Quartermaster to dig up some dirt on Q’s new employer.”

 

Alec hit him upside the head. “Eve told me to do that every time you say something that I might find even remotely fun.” He seemed to pounder something for a moment and then smacked him again. “It sounded really fun so I think Eve would agree to me doing that twice.” He made to hit him again, but stopped when he saw how upset James looked, turning serious. “James, do you really want him to be unhappy?” James let out a little noise without wanting to, his heart genuinely hurting. “Then let him have his dream job if you really want him to stick by your side, be honest. Tell him what you are and what he means to you and hope for the best.”

 

It was easy for Alec to say that because the person that interested him was in their world, lived as they did, accepted what they did, had their own hands stained with blood. But Q’s hands only knew oil – be it for the car, for the food, or for their backs – and he looked like the type of person who would be crushed by the world hidden from all.

 

So no, James wasn’t going to tell him the truth. But he also wasn’t going to stop him from following his dream job. His children, on the other hand, loved Q almost as much as he did and he sort of looked forward to the conversation between the three while also being deadly afraid of it and wishing he could clone himself because three of him were going to be needed to pacify the wounded in the aftermath.

 

***

 

He was chewing on his fingernails and that was what instantly gave him away. “You’re abandoning us!” Jaime shot up, pointing an accusing finger at him.

 

Q let out a shaky breath, glancing at Mister Bond who simply refused to make eye contact with him. Well, the man had been honest and told him upfront that he wasn’t going to help him with this at all. “Darling,” Q started, keeling before Jamie and using his sleeve to wipe his tears just like he had so long ago, “I am not abandoning you.”

 

“Yes you are,” Victor screeched and threw himself at his father. “Make him stay!” The youngest demanded and started stomping his feet in a manner that wasn’t him at all. “Do something and make him stay and I won’t ever ask you for anything in my entire life!” He promised and Mister Bond let out a long sigh, gently ruffling his hair.

 

“I tried,” the man whispered, bending over to kiss his son’s forehead. “I am not going to ask you to simply accept it but out of respect for everything that Q did to us, I will ask you to listen to him.”

 

The accusatory glares he was getting from all three of the Bond men made Q want to lock himself up in his room. But he had to be strong. He had to be brave and take control of his life and also to allow this family to stand on its own feet. “It is true that I will no longer be your nanny—”

 

“No!” Jaime erupted and wrapped himself around Q, Victor quickly following suit. “You’ll always be our nanny! You _have_ to! Dad, tell him—”

 

“Jaime, darling, I can’t,” Q interrupted him and hugged him tightly, managing to manoeuvre Victor in his arms as well. “You and your brother are big boys now and you no longer need a nanny. Do you want your friends to laugh at you because of me?” He had done his best to teach the children not to care about what others had to say, but they were still too young to truly understand that and they were bound to still allow themselves to be affected by their friends.

 

“We’ll kick their arses and make them eat their bloody words,” Victor chimed in and Q felt like he needed a tall glass of cold water because his brother was the one who usually resorted to violence while he was the pacifist. “Sorry,” he added in a softer voice, face a bit red.

 

“But we will do just that nonetheless,” joined Jaime, looking at his brother and nodding. “So you can stay on as our nanny until we die.”

 

Q was tempted to point out that since he was older, logic dictated that he was going to be the one that goes first, but the boys were far too upset to be forced to face the inability of time and the cruelness of life. With a sigh and a headshake in Mister Bond’s direction – who now looked ready to scoop his children up and carry them out – he tried again.

 

He cupped their faces and forced them to look him in their eyes. “I know it feels as if I am abandoning you, but I am not. I’ll still have the same phone number and you can call me any time of the day if you need me. I won’t promise that I will be able to come running if it’s not an emergency, but I will do my best.”

 

Since it was clear that tantrums were not working, the children opted to use pouty lips and puppy eyes, but Q managed to resist them – barely. He explained what his new job was and the two boys recognized it to be Q’s dream one so they muttered their understandings with half sullen words, looking like it hurt them to also admit that the company which now ‘owned’ their beloved nanny was a good one. But there was still one thing that they refused to wrap their heads around and namely, him moving out.

 

“Surely dad isn’t throwing you out.” Jamie’s words were accompanied by a harsh glare, one that earned a sigh from the person it was directed at. “Right, father?”

  
“No one is kicking anyone out,” Mister Bond said exasperated. “I offered Q to stay here with us, but you have to understand that he wants his own life and we can’t force him to do something he doesn’t want to do.”

 

The puppy eyes were back on him and Q made sure to send Mister Bond a glare for the choice of words. He braced himself for the please and begs, but what followed was more painful and namely, barely held back whimpers and shaky nods of understatement. And wasn’t that more than enough proof that they had grown up? Instead of threatening to run away or outright bolt for the room, try to trip Alec and the other guards, they accepted the hand dealt by life. Except, they didn’t, the sneaky little devils.

 

They asked if they could join Q on his apartment hunting, something to which their father instantly agreed to, if only he himself had been nagging about tagging along. And because he was somehow still naïve when it came to their plans, Q agreed and managed to lose thee decent places and a realtor in less than one hour.

 

“I’ll pay for the damage that my children accidentally caused,” Mister Bond offered the dripping, fuming woman, trying his best to help her dry her now completely ruined and multi-coloured tailored suit. “And I am dreadfully sorry about this, Miss Ryder.” He turned to his children then, the two devils looking anything but regretful and simply tutted at them and wagged his finger in their direction.

 

“Mister Boothroyd, I will make sure that _no one_ from my company will be forced to put up with you or your unruly children for as long as I live,” the woman hissed at him after she was done swatting away at Mister Bond. “Good day!” And she slammed the door in their faces, probably already on the phone to make sure that she kept good to her promise.

 

But before he could start chewing Mister Bond out because he was sure that he had a major part in this, the man produced a realtor by the name of Mister Bill Tanner who promised to do his best to find Q’s dream apartment. Except he seemed to do this best to show him the worst of the worst.

 

All the apartments that the man showed him where either too small, too expensive, too dirty, or in parts of London that somehow managed to be even more dangerous than the neighbourhood that he had originally started in.

 

By the end of the week, Q was tired, grouchy, and wanted to cry. “I’ll just try to get my old apartment back,” he concluded and Mister Bond outright chocked on his drink. “It shouldn’t be too hard, as I know the couple who rents it and I know that they like to add a clause in the contract which favours when they are offered more money.”

 

Mister Bond glared daggers as Q signed his new contract with his old landlords and no matter how many cockroaches the children claimed to see – over a hundred, Victor announced while the actual owners swore up and down that they had just disinfected the place – or how small and smelly – nothing died in it and Q knew for sure because this was the exact same smell it had when he had lived in it the first time – they thought his old apartment was, he was satisfied with it.

 

“Q, why don’t you really want to live with us anymore?” Victor asked as soon as they had returned home. “Is it because we had nightmares and we sometimes made you sleep with the octopus known as our father?”

 

“You could have kicked him if it was his snoring that bothered you because that’s what we did,” Jamie helpfully offered, Mister Bond rubbing his leg as he remembered all the bruises that had baffled both him and Q in the past. “Or is it because dad keeps leaving his things everywhere? We can all band together and clean after him.”

 

Q couldn’t help but giggle when he saw the way father and son exchanged glares. “Darlings, you know that I sleep like the dead if the noises around me aren’t dangerous.” He didn’t want to approach the octopus part because when he woke up, him and Mister Bond were entwined in the middle of the bed which meant that they both had to move to get like that. “And you two kick a lot harder than he does—”

 

The man dropped his knife and fork and grabbed his hand. “I had no idea I did that and I hope I didn’t hurt you for real.”

 

“I was startled the first time it happened, but then I got used to it and I snuck a pillow between our legs,” Q was quick to reassure him, blinking when Mister Bond was suddenly kneeling before him, trying to push his jeans up to check. “Mister Bond, we shared a bed six months ago so there wouldn’t be any bruises left if I had any to begin with.”

 

Mister Bond nodded, but he still examined his legs as if they were the Mona Lisa after a fire and Q tried his best not to shiver or get Goosebumps when the man started to run his hands up and down his legs. “Your bones feel so fragile, Q. But I don’t remember seeing you limp, although you had crutches that one—”

 

“The only time that happened, I slipped on ice and it was two months after we shared a bed,” Q interrupted before the man could work himself into a panic attach – or mild arrhythmia since Mister Bond did not strike him as the type of person who would get that. “Mister Bond, please calm down and stop doing that; I am highly ticklish and we are eating soup.”

 

“Is it because father tickles you?” Victor asked before Mister Bond could say anything and that special bubble that formed around them and blocked out the world around them popped and the man rushed back to his seat while Q struggled to rearrange his pants – and how the hell Mister Bond had managed to get his stretch pants rolled up so easily while he was doing his best not to fall off the chair was a mystery that he would probably never figure out.

 

“V, that’s not it,” Mister Bond and then quickly turned to look at Q. “Right? Because if it is, I promise to never do it again and if it the kicking—”

 

“It’s not the kicking or the tickling,” Q assured him, squeezing his hand. “And it’s not the mess as I am a lot messier than your father.”

 

That was the wrong choice of words yet again because Jaime was back to glaring to his father. “Are you kicking him out because of that? Because if it is, Victor and I can clean up after him before you see it!”

 

Q tugged the two boys in his arms, kissing the top of their heads. “Jaime, darlings, your father is not kicking me out and I am not leaving because of anything he or you had done over the years.” He kissed their heads again and shushed them before they could start whining and pleading again, Mister Bond giving him napkins so he could wipe their eyes. “I will no longer be working here, so it makes no sense for me to live here.”

 

They finished the dinner in silence and the rest of the month was spent carefully going around the sleeping bags that seemed to have taken permanent residence in front of his room and dodging puppy eyes – which he was subjected to by Mister Bond out of all the people – lists upon lists of why all the new nannies would be horrible – again, by Mister Bond – and pleads for him not to go masqueraded as supposedly funny anecdotes that tugged at his heart string.

 

Going to his new job was also weird. He still got up early and made sure that the children had everything packed and were ready for school – accidentally helping Mister Bond deem three trial nannies as unsatisfactory – also popping in his former boss’ room to make sure that he woke up in tine as he seemed to have developed a habit of sleeping in.

 

“Mister Bond, you’ll be late,” he whispered as he tried to find a way to get to the man who was sleeping shirtless in the middle of the bed without actually touching the bed. “Mister Bond, _I_ ’ll be late.” By this line, he had become desperate enough to actually jump in the bed, whining not unlike the children did when they wanted something.

 

And then Mister Bond suddenly rolled over and despite knowing better, Q was always surprised when he ended up with his face plastered against the firm chest, the bloody bastard smelling just fine despite the unwritten law that no one in the morning should. “Quit your job and come sleep with me.”

 

Yes, Q wanted to say. Yes and take me now, he wanted to add in a needy whisper as he stripped. But the pain he felt in his neither region which was caused by a pair of blue balls he won’t have time to deal with made it more than clear that this wasn’t one of his dreams, so he wiggled as best he could without outright rubbing against his nuzzling former boss.

 

“As much as I’d love to sleep, we both need to get to work,” Q tried to be the voice of reason, finally wearing Mister Bond down to dragging his fine arse out of bed before he could get to his high electricity bills.

 

And yet the packing was the hardest thing to do mostly because when the children helped, things tended to disappear such as all of his shoes, some of his pants, his new house keys, his wallet, and his identity card. This actually annoyed him so much that with three days before he was set up to move away, he threatened to go to a hotel and not come to visit them for at least six months.

 

“V, give him his keys back and J, I better count all 5 pairs of…” Mister Bond trailed off and frowned, focusing on Q. “How bad have I been paying you if you only have five pairs of shoes, one of which are slippers?”

 

“You’ve been paying me too much and four pairs of actual shoes are enough, especially since I change them when they get beaten up,” Q reassured him, confused as to why the two boys were walking out of the house with shovels. “What are they doing?”

 

Alec took a deep breath and placed himself between them and the children. “In my defence, I did not know why they needed them in the first place and you two do talk about how you want them to get out more.”

 

“So you let them bury my shoes and keys?” Q snapped, raising his voice. “Mister Bond, I have to go to work tomorrow and I need my shoes!”

 

Wrapping an arm around him, Mister Bond pushed his face in his chest, rubbing the back of his neck in a soothing manner – and Q tried his best not to cling to him in return and simply take deep breaths of his aftershave. “I’ll ask someone to get you new shoes, ground them for the next five years,” the children whined but he ignored them, “make sure that the new nanny is a former army general, and then also find a way to ground Alec for giving them the shovel in the first place.”

 

Now Alec was complaining, but Q couldn’t care less if he tried because Mister Bond smelled so nice and his chest was as chiselled as ever. It kind of made him regret that they wouldn’t be going on one last trip at the seaside together, even if it would inevitably end up with whishing that the ground would swallow him whole while the man peeled him off and gently massaged more cream in his skin.

 

“So, what do you say?” Mister Bond’s murmurs in his ear snapped him out of his thoughts and he instantly turned red, embarrassed that he hadn’t being paying attention. “I was asking if you’d like to start call me ‘James’ from now on since I am no longer your boss.”

 

It took Q a moment, but he finally rebooted his brain and managed to form that single word he whispered only in his dreams. “James.”

 

The smile he got blinded him and made him forgive the children for what they did to his shoes.

 

***

 

Q paused typing in favour of stretching, humming in pleasure as he heard every bone in his back popping and cracking. He had been gently scolded by his new team leader about how hunched he sat over his work station, the poor woman worrying about his posture, but he really couldn’t help it. His typing was a lot faster when he sat like that and ideas also came to him a lot faster.

 

“You popped out of your digital shell just in time to greet your usual visitor for lunch,” his team leader said with a hint of tease in her voice. “So, where is he taking you this time? If you’re going to ‘Chic et coûteux’ again, can you take pictures?” She asked after Q was done arranging his hair and clothes a little.

 

On his third week there and first day on his own, Q got a bad case of the stupid and forgot his wallet at home. He had planned on asking someone to lend him some money until the following day, but _James_ appeared out of nowhere, like a knight in a fancy, tight, expensive suit with an Aston Martin in place of a stallion and a way to get into restaurants that were rumoured to be booked with two years in advance instead of a sword.

 

“Always a pleasure to see you, Miss Simonova,” charming _James_ purred without looking at the clearly smitten team leader. “I hope you’re treating Q here as a prince should be treated.”

 

He heard the women he worked with start to giggle, his team lead disguising hers with a weak cough. “As much as he let us, Mister Bond.” 

 

James winked at her and then held out his arm for Q to grab, smiling when the man rolled his eyes and walked on ahead of him. “I do hope you’ll abandon your McDonald’s in favour of the sandwiches done by Jaime and Victor.” That got Q to stop and hold out his hands, hugging the brown paper bag to his chest. “They miss you too.” He ruffled Q’s hair and more women giggled around them.

 

“If my portion of the game doesn’t suffer any framerate drop and if you aren’t away on business, I will take you all to the best ice cream that the local zoo has to offer,” Q promised and allowed James to guide him out of the building, too busy eating to pay attention to where he was going.

 

“I suppose I can sacrifice a suit for the children,” James said as he pulled a face.

 

Q decided then that if he rolled his eyes one more time because of the well-dressed man-child that stole his ability to think proper, they were going to pop out so he simply sighed. “You can stay home if you want to. Alec will be coming with us—”

 

“Do you know how much trouble Alec, Jamie, and Vic—” He held Q’s glare for a moment before nodding. “Do you know how much trouble Alec and Jaime could do if left alone in a zoo?” He completely ignored Q pointing out that he would be there and that Victor could get his brother to do what he wanted for a change if he put his mind to it. “They’ll be riding lions and flying eagles within the hour! No, no, I _have_ to come with you four just to be sure.”

 

They went to the bench that Q favoured, James listened to how his day went so far as he always did – answering Q’s question about his day in his usual cryptic way – and lunch was over much too soon. With a firm hand shake and a repeat of the promise of his next Saturday, they parted ways and Q went back to his office where Miss Simonova was waiting for him with a small smile and an USB stick full of tweaks he needed to do by Monday.

 

“But I promised the children and James that I’ll take them out this weekend,” he whined as he grabbed the stick from the woman, letting out a loud groan when he saw how many things he was supposed to fix. “From what I can see here, only one line has to do with my levels.”

 

The woman looked around to make sure that everyone was busy working before leaning close to whisper in his ear. “I am not saying that this is a test to make sure that you’ll be able to handle the head programmer position on the next game, but that’s what I am pretty much saying.”

 

He was tempted to jump out of his seat and start celebrating, but he managed to hold back mostly because he was trying to come up with a plan to fix the game without forgetting what the word ‘sleep’ meant _and_ keep his word. Sadly, he couldn’t think of anything. “I’ll need lots of Earl Grey and for the security guard to know that I’m still here.”

 

She grabbed his hands before he could start typing. “Q, I don’t think your lover will be okay with you overworking yourself and his children will surely understand.”

 

“A promise is a—lover? What lover? Mister Bond isn’t my lover,” Q said quickly, shaking his head. “Mister Bond is my former boss and we’re,” he hesitated for a moment, trying his best to come up with the right word, “friends.”

 

The woman hummed, little smirk present on her lips. “You don’t sound so sure about that last part, Q. Not that I blame you what with the way he acts around you and the way he looks at you. And you have pictures of your—I mean, his children on your desk so we all thought you were either two lovers waiting for marriage to become legal.”

 

“We’re _friends_ ,” he hurried to say before his mind conjured up any of them dressed in tuxes and singing papers. “Plus, he’s straight.”

 

The woman snorted, shaking her head. “I drew straighter lines than him when I was piss drunk. But you’ll reach that conclusion yourself in time, I am sure,” she added when he saw the confusion in Q’s eyes. “I’ll ask the night guards to bug you until you go home.”

 

He eventually closed his computer one hour after midnight, his head hurting too much for him to be able to do a single string of code without having at least seven errors in it – plus, he had ran out of tea and the night guard had set up shop right next to him and his stories were putting him to sleep, which probably was his plan.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to call you a cab?” The man asked and Q smiled, shaking his head.

 

“I have a new bicycle and the roads are empty enough for me to get home in twenty minutes,” Q added before the man could argue. “Have a good night.”

 

“And you have a great nap, Mister Boothroyd! And be careful! The roads may be clear, but the city is still full of dangers.” the security guard called out after him, locking the main doors.

 

Q scoffed, but quickly regretted it as some rather strange men seemed to be lingering around his bicycle, the security cameras very obviously disabled. He didn’t immediately stop as that would have caught their eye. Not that he needed to borrow since when he very carefully and slowly turned to go back to safety, he found that his path was blocked by two very large men.

 

“Are you acquainted with a Mister James Bond?” Someone asked as two large hands placed themselves firmly on Q’s shoulders, keeping him in place. “You don’t need to give me an actual answer as I’ve done my homework.” It went without saying that all his alarm bells went off in his head and he tried to subtly reach for his phone to call the cops, but the gorillas were faster and grabbed it before him. “Don’t make things harder for yourself, Mister Boothroyd. Actually, allow me to make sure you don’t,” he added and Q felt a sharp pain in his neck, darkness quickly following.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments and for the kudos.
> 
> The next chapter won't be up until I a done with my RBB, sorry.

Eve Moneypenny was a very careful and calculated person. Though officially nothing more than a secretary, she was always on top of her game and nothing in the agency moved or happened without her knowledge. But she had been a field agent prior to giving herself this semblance of a normal life and although she had not attained the double oh, she had retained the habits of one and carried herself as if she was one.

 

But when hell froze over and she screwed up – which happened more often than she would like to admit and the devil could easily win a golden medal at the Winter Olympics – she really _screwed up_. One such ‘rare’ instance happened not ten minutes after they caught word that Q was kidnapped and she voted for telling Alec first in order to help them ease James into the news.

 

“You had **_six_** agents on his tail! Six _senior_ agents!” He bellowed, hitting the desk so hard that it actually cracked. “How the bloody hell did they still manage to get him? Why the bloody hell didn’t you have an agent working inside the building?” He made to grab someone and a poor junior agent – which Eve had no idea what he was doing there in the first place – and began to shake him. “James was right about not trusting you lot with anyone’s security,” he growled and all the present agents started to slowly move in on him, getting ready to jump him before something fully set him off.

 

Sadly, that thing ended up being M. “We went through the trouble of increasing security even though Mister Boothroyd was not labelled as a person of high importance.” Eve and everyone else tried to signal the woman to stop talking, but she simply ignored them. “He has no knowledge of anything of our missions, he has not been marked down as a relative or lover of 007, and though he seems to be a decent coder, he does not seem to be interested in any codes outside of games.”

 

All the agents were on him before he could even finish taking a single step towards their boss. “This is why I stopped being an agent,” he hissed at her, trying to flex his muscle hard enough so the Medical staff couldn’t inject him with the tranquilizer. “You can’t even be bothered to watch over the people we care and then act surprised when someone is forced to turn into a traitor.”

 

To anyone who didn’t really know M, the woman continued to look cold and uncaring, but Eve knew better. The woman was just really good at masking her emotions, her job forcing her to do her best to be as detached to the people around as she could be, but that was realistically impossible unless they got an actual robot for a boss, which M wasn’t. She felt pain, sorrow, and regret and if the words thrown at her stung enough, her carefully constructed mask cracked long enough for Eve to see all of that.

 

“Alec, we really didn’t think—”

 

“Spare me the excuses,” the agent muttered as his anger was being dulled by the tranquilizer in his system. “You all knew how important this man was for James and yet…” He trailed off, looking confused and only mildly annoyed. “I just know that I’ll end up running all over London for J and V.” And then he promptly passed out.

 

While the dangerous man was being carried over to Medical – where he would be strapped to the bed and _slowly_ be brought out of sleep – a few department heads started to debate if James should even be informed of Q’s unfortunate kidnapping.

 

What if – and this was just a theory mixed with heavy praying on their part – Q was such a good coder that a rival gaming company snatched him? If that was the case, yes shame on them for having their target swiped right from under their noses by someone who was leagues under them, but they could definitely recover the boffin without alerting the ticking time bomb with a fixation on said boffin.

 

If looks could kill, MI6 would constantly be hiring people. “Tanner, have their _entre_ departments go through training again, because if their leaders think that a computer designer associated with that menace of an agent wasn’t kidnapped to be used against him, I really don’t want to know just how horrible they are in their fields.”

 

How fired would she be if she pointed out that the man was kidnapped because she had disconsidered him in the first place? Okay, so they all had but what they thought or said never really mattered so when you got at the bottom of everything, it was her fault.   

 

“On second thought, ignore my previous order. We’d be much too exposed to our enemies with so many temporarily decommissioned departments,” she grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “However, I will not be so lenient towards Mister Boothroyd’s security detail and I also want a team of snipers on 007 when he gets here.”

 

What did retraining had to do with snipers on James? “M, you don’t really intend to—”

 

“They will be equipped with tranquilizer weapons, Miss Moneypenny” Lieutenant Colonel Gareth Mallory cleared up, glancing at his phone. “Speaking of which, I’ve just been informed that agent 007 is on his way here. However…”

 

M sighed, rolling her eyes. “Am I to assume that he wouldn’t leave without his spawns even though he was told that they were being taken to our main safe house by three double oh agents?”

 

Mallory nodded, clearing his throat. “Though if I may speak freely, the two children present here will work in our advantage as I doubt the agent would turn violent in front of them as long as they are not under threat.”

 

“The man is a _decent_ father so he might do just that,” M conceded and you can see how pained she was to make a compliment to James even if he was not there to hear it. “Have psychiatrists on standby and increase security just in case Trevelyan’s words come true. I don’t want Bond to get an aneurism today.”

 

***

 

James woke up with a start and stumbled over to Q’s room to put his nightmare to rest out of habit. It took him a moment to remember that the reason the room was empty was because the man had moved out and not because of what happened in his dream, but felt like an eternity trapped in a hell created out of guilt, helplessness and inability to save another person that he cared about.

 

“He’s safe, he’s safe, he’s safe,” he muttered like a mantra as he slowly slid down the wall, waiting for his heart to calm down and for that little voice in the back of his head that sang of danger to silence itself.

 

But the voice didn’t. It kept on getting louder and louder, distracting him from his sons’ excited chatter about the zoo and their plans with Q, Alec’s hand on his shoulder acting as the anchor that brought him out of his dark thoughts. “You’ve never let a nightmare affect you for this long, James. Everything okay?”

 

He thought about the answer for a good minute, eyeing his phone. His worries could be laid to rest with a simple phone call, but he knew that the digital world was tricky enough to have everything go wrong by a single misplaced coma and he knew Q well enough to know that the man would sit up all night if needed in order to keep his promise of a Saturday spent together, so calling him was out of the question.

 

“I’ve been grounded for far too long and I’m getting restless,” he said eventually, shrugging free of Alec’s warm touch.

 

Alec snorted, shaking his head. “You and I both know that that is a load of—” He got cut off by his phone going off, the fact that he instantly looked annoyed typing him off that it was a call from MI6. “I need to go, but you best go wake sleeping beauty up so you can calm down,” he joked, ruffling the children’s hair before rushing out the door.

 

Jaime tugging on his sleeve and frowning at him the same way his mother did whenever he did something wrong made him forget his curiosity about Alec’s secret mission. “Are you cheating on Q?”

 

He managed to choke on air. “I would never cheat on Q.” Wait, that wasn’t the thing that should have outraged him – but he made a mental note that even though his boys didn’t know of his Casanova ways, they still assumed that he’d disrespect his partners like that. “What gave you the idea that Q and I were in that kind of a relationship? On that note, aren’t you a little too young to know how to use that term outside of a game?”

 

“I’m fourteen,” his son proudly announced and for the first time in many years, James’ blood ran cold for a reason that didn’t have anything to do with the field.

 

His sons, the lights of his eyes, his beloved little devils – they had never been angels, not even when they were infants, always throwing fits the second he or… the second the people they considered to be safe walked out of their view – were growing up and there was nothing that he could do to stop that. Though, according to this one crazy scientist that he had encountered in the—

 

“Dad!” Jamie shouted right in his ear as Victor tugged on his nose. “As an adult, I demand to know if all the hard work we put in ruining Q’s dates were for nothing!”

 

James grabbed the two before they could bolt away and hugged them tightly. “If you keep using that tone with me, I will ground you and know that I’ll do that even when you are 99 years old.” He then proceeded to cover their foreheads in kisses, not bothered in the least by their struggling or complaints about being embarrassed.

 

“There’s no one here to see for you to be embarrassed, so I can carry on doing this until the end of days,” he argued, truly laughing and promising himself that he will do this as often as it was possible before they grew up to the point where he wouldn’t be able to carry them.

 

In fact, he was seriously thinking about calling the school and lie that they are sick and then go wherever they wanted, culminating in surprising Q for lunch. Actually, as he thought about that, he could easily picture the disappointed look the man would give him, quickly followed by a shoulder so cold that could make the Ice Age feel like a visit to the tropics.

 

“No, you’re definitely not skipping classes today,” he announced as he plopped them back on their chairs, confusing them. “Ignore me; I’m just thinking out loud.”

 

He wanted to think that he was saved from the two of them ganging up on him – and forcing him to decide which was worse: their puppy eyes or Q’s death glare – by the MI6 agents that knocked on his door, but he knew better than to think they had good news for him.

 

“Jamie, Victor, go to my room, turn on the TV and stay there until I call you,” he instructed, blocking the agents’ sight of them. “How bad is it? What happened to Alec?”

 

He did not like the moment of silence or the look that they exchanged between them, especially since the two in the back were resting their hands where their hidden weapons were. “This isn’t about Trevelyan,” their leader said, licking his lips, “so no need to get alarmed.”

 

Clearly the man was a newbie because no one in their right mind started a conversation with a deadly double oh agent who tended to be _very_ protective. “Then who’s it about? And make it quick as I need to decide if I’m taking my children to school or making you take them so I go on a rampage.”

 

They shared another glance that made him want to gauge out their eyes. “We think it would be for the best if you would allow for them to be taken to the MI6 main safe house.”

 

“Over my dead body,” he breathed out, one arm wrapped around his throat, pushing him in front of himself to use him as a human shield, throwing his gun away. “If you think that my children are in danger, then they are coming with me to the supposedly safest place on earth, understood?” The men nodded and James released their leader, rearranging his shirt. “And do a better job at hiding your weapons because I don’t want my children exposed to them.”

 

James assumed that the drive to MI6 had to be the most stressful thing that the agent had experienced up until that point, the guards fidgeting in the back, next to the children as they didn’t know how the deadly double oh wanted them to sit, hands brushing their hidden weapons as their eyes met, silently asking each other if they were visible or not, and the driver who kept glancing at him whenever he changed speeds, unsure if he was supposed to respect the traffic laws or not.

 

“Is it an emergency?” James asked slowly, arms crossed over his chest, doing his best not to start tapping his foot in annoyance at having to lead the man down the logical path of driving according to the possible crisis MI6 was going through.

 

The man started to sweat, hands shaking slightly on the wheel. “W-we don’t know. Not yet at least. I mean we assume it is, but we don’t know yet and I don’t think that I should really be talking about this with you while we’re here, so I’ll shut up now and drive,” the man stuttered, gulping as he increased the speed alongside James’ blood pressure.

 

He wondered what the emergency could be. It was obvious that London wasn’t under attack since people seemed to be going about their lives as they normally would and he could also rule out a bomb going off at the MI6 building itself as he wasn’t seeing fire trucks and ambulances rushing there. This might have been about M dying but if that were the case, then they wouldn’t have tried to ship off his kids and the people sent to get him wouldn’t have been as stressed as they are.

 

No, whatever happened affected him personally, he summarized. Not with Alec because it was clear now that MI6 removed him to either lessen the blow or keep him from assisting him and the only actual family he still had were in the backseat, bombarding the possibly traumatized agents with pressing questions about what their father actually did. So, logically, the only reason why they’d be acting like this would be because of…

 

“Q,” he breathed out and the driver managed to turn whiter, confirming that his deduction had been right. “What happened to Q?”

 

The man laughed nervously and for a moment, James pictured how good it would be to smack his face into the wheel. “The Quartermaster is just fine.”

 

James punched the dashboard and his children instantly went silent. “Sorry,” he quickly said, turning to smile at them. “I’m a bit stressed,” because the guards were trying to play stupid.

 

“Is Q okay?” Victor asked, lower lip trembling and James wanted to kick himself for not keeping his mouth shut – and also the driver who _dared_ to look smug.

 

“I wasn’t asking about that Q,” he lied, badly so.

 

“You don’t know any other Q,” Jaime accused, his fear translating to anger. “What happened to Q?” He demanded, kicking the driver’s chair.

 

“Jaime!” James snapped, leaning back and grabbing his leg before the driver somehow got knocked out. “What did I say about bothering the person who’s driving?” He slapped the agent who accidentally let out a snort. “And when I say I know another Q besides our Q, then I know another Q.”

 

“Except you don’t,” Victor muttered and James let out a long sigh, thankful when they entered the MI6 parking lot where Eve was waiting for them, clearly anxious.

 

He was tempted to start bombarding her with all sorts of questions, try to get the story out of her first, but then he thought of something else. “Darlings, weren’t you saying just the other day that you missed you’re Auntie Eve?”

 

They hadn’t and Victor was glaring at him. However, while he was the youngest, he was also the more cerebral one and caught on to his father’s plan and with a single glance at Eve and a stomp on his brother’s foot to keep him from revealing the truth, he threw himself at her, hugging her tightly. “You stopped visiting us after Q left,” he shouted in an accusatory way, giving her the most guilt-striking, broken hearted look he could muster.

 

A few seconds later and the coin had also dropped for Jamie. “Do you hate us so much that you don’t want to stay with us anymore?”

 

If there was one thing that Eve was afraid of, then that thing was children that were on the verge of tears because she didn’t know how to deal with them. Rampaging agents and snobby bureaucrats were a breeze, but children with tell-tale signs of snort on tears, their cheeks already turning red as they took a deep breath to unleash that first sob that tended to either break your heart or annoy the hell out of you? More than Eve could take.

 

“No one hates you, dears,” she said quickly, kneeling before them. “No one could really hate you two, I promise.”

 

“W-well, Q left and, and then you stopped…” Victor trailed off and let out a shaky breath mixed with a sob and James managed to get all the white noise inside his brain die down long enough for him make a note about asking him later if he would be interested in following a theatrical career.

 

“I don’t know—”

 

“Spend the day with us,” Jamie interrupted her, his tears suddenly gone moment in which Eve turned her head to glare at James so hard he was surprised they weren’t calling a priest to exorcise her.

 

“Would you be a dear and watch over them to make sure that they don’t get lost or scared or _lost_?” James chimed in, his grin as big as the Cheshire’s cat that somehow got bigger when he watched his children drag her away.

 

He climbed two stairs at a time because he felt that the elevator was taking too long - and because he could easily imagine going berserk listening to that annoying song meant to pacify him - and he still looked as if he had gone on a stroll through the garden when he kicked open M's office door, easily keeping Tanner at an arm's length away.

 

M glanced behind him and rolled her eyes. “Did Miss Moneypenny suddenly forget how to get to my office? And where—?”

 

“My patience is all but gone, M, so I suggest we drop our usual game and you just get to the point,” James growled.

 

The woman waved Tanner away and pushed an unopened bottle of her best scotch towards him. “According to our both our physical and digital surveillance teams, there are currently no active terrorist—”

 

“And yet someone took Q and you think they did because of his connection with me,” James finished for her and hit the desk so hard that he bent it and sent the horrible porcelain dog the woman had flying when she lowered her head. “Tell me, M, do I blink when you send on suicidal missions?”

 

“Well, you come back from them so they aren't really—”

 

“Q,” James growled and the woman sighed, looking tired. "We were actually talking about my Q and about how I went so far as to fill in all the paperwork to get his security detail legally and yet, they still managed to get them from right under your noses. Just like—” He cut himself off and tried to close the vault on that painful memory, choosing instead to focus on his anger.

 

Whenever one of the woman's orders resulted in something going bad for him, he felt the need to trash her office and piss in her best bottles of alcohol. But never hurt her. Just thinking about the possibility of doing that made his skin crawl and, much to his surprise, the same could be said for right now – maybe it was the whole 'seeing her as your mother' that that the psychiatrist was ranting quite a few good years ago.

 

“You know how this world works, Bond.” This was the softest and sweetest voice M had ever used and it was close to giving him a coronary.

 

“Is Q dead? Is Q gone? Where is his body? How did he die?” He realized that he was shouting because his throat was hurting, but he couldn’t hear himself. “Who killed him and where are they?”

 

He more than felt the slap from M and the world became focused again. “Are you done having a fit? Or should I wait until you hyperventilate yourself into the Medical wing and then write in your card that we don’t know if he’s dead yet?”

 

“But we don’t know where…” He trailed off when his phone alerted him that he had received a message, the air getting knocked out of him when he checked it.

 

It was a picture of Q, with an IV connected to his arm, blindfolded and tied to a chair in front of a wall covered in an intricate drawing ruined by unreadable scribbles, a very obvious and worrisome cut on his chin and another thin trickle of blood in the left corner of his lips. His clothes were ruffled, but seemed fine otherwise and he lacked shoes, the man curling up his toes in a possible combination of cold induced by the shock he was surely going through and pure fear.

 

James lost control and M lost her office.

 

***

 

When he came to, the first thing he noticed was that even though he opened his eyes, everything was still dark. Not blurry, but dark. The second thing he noticed was the headache that struck him so sudden he thought someone had smacked him over the head with a metal bat. Then followed the cold, his inability to move and finally, last night’s memories.

 

“Don’t confuse this for something personal, Mister Boothroyd,” someone said in a sweet and calm voice from right in front of him and Q got a glimpse of what a heart attack might feel like. “You are also not here because of your knowledge of any upcoming games if you think that’s the reason, even though you do seem to be the kind of individual that, with a little bit of work, I would pursue for a position in my company with a lot of money.”

 

“I get the distinct impression that I would still turn you down even if we met in normal circumstances,” Q said in a raspy voice. “So what is this about? If you know I make games, you couldn’t have confused me with a rich person.”

 

His kidnapper chuckled, outright snorting when he flinched at feeling something cold pushed up against his lips. “I am offering you a glass of water, nothing else. The drug we injected you with has a tendency to dehydrate the person it was administrated to and I really don’t want you dead before you finish serving your purpose.” 

 

“And what would that be?”

 

“Making James bloody Bond suffer,” his captor sneered at him and Q spat water in his face, screaming in pain when the man smashed the glass over his face.  “I can see why that worm would—I can’t think with you screaming!” The man shouted at him, slapping his other cheek and then shoving something sharp in his neck. “Hook him up to an IV, fix his face a little, and turn him into a model for darling James to have something _nice_ to start his day with.”

 

The next time he came to, he was aware of everything around him. He could easily count the four people drinking beer and playing cards, his ears hurting as their weapons clung as they hit against their chairs. He was also more than aware of the fact that half his face was numb and that he also had a needle in his arm.

 

“What does your boss have against James?” He was pleased when he heard the men flinch, two of them reaching for their guns.

 

“Boss, the bait came to. What do you want us to do with him?” Let him go, Q hoped the man would say, but he wasn’t that high on whatever drugs they stuffed in him. “Yeah, he seems aware of his surroundings.” A few mumbles and an annoyed sigh on the henchman’s part. “I am not paid to— Fine, but I’ll pull his teeth out if he tries to bite me.”

 

A minute later, Q was glaring at a tall, muscly man that had scars on the side of his face, glaring at him as he held a slice of pizza to his mouth. “If it has pineapple—”

 

“Don’t start,” the monkey interrupted him, forcing his mouth open and shoving the food in his mouth. “I am not paid to be nice to you or be your waiter, so you’ll eat what we give you and like it.”

 

Q struggled to chew and swallow, but ended up puking all over the man’s shows, which resulted in a cuss and what he presumed to be a hard slap against his face. “Half of my face is numb, genius. What did you think would happen?” He asked, glaring at the man until he lowered his arm and stomped out of the room. Good, three left. “I’m thirsty.” A man shorter that the first one walked into his seriously restricted field of vision, holding a glass of water to his lips. “It’s too warm and if it’s not mineral, it makes me sick.”

 

“Excuse me, but are you confusing this with the Ritz or something?” The man growled, making to grab his chin to force him to drink.

 

But Q was slowly starting to regain his reflexes and leaned back in time, turning his head to the side. “I’ll puke all over you as well.” And then there were two, the newly appointed water boy throwing the glass in his general direction when he heard Q asking for a specific brand of water.

 

But he realized he was all out of reasons to make the other men leave the room and he thought he saw them glaring at him with pure hatred, their fingers brushing against what might have been their weapons. “We aren’t your servants, s if you’re thinking about asking for a foot massage, you can forget about it.”

 

Only thing he could have done with that was kick the would-be masseuse in the face, which would have left his companion more than ready to take him down. And he was still pretty tied to the chair, the restraints not losing up no matter how much he wiggled. For that matter, if he freed himself, where would he go? Where was he in the first place?

 

Okay, he needed to focus and look around without narrowing his eyes too much. The room only had one small window close to the ceiling which was painted over, the only light coming from a single exposed light bulb. The air was also damp and although was tempted to take it as a side-effect of the drugs, but the smell of salty water helped him reach the conclusion that he was either at the docks, or in a building very close to the docks – he had no idea how to navigate around that district, but he figured that the best plan was to run away from the giant body of water, hop in a cab and go to the cops.

 

“I get the distinct impression that you are only capable of breaking bones, not relieve tension from muscles,” Q muttered, wiggling his toes. “But could I get at least a pair of socks? I am freezing.”

 

“If you’re cold enough, I can pour gasoline over you and set you on fire,” one of the men growled at him and returned to shuffling the deck. “Think he boss gave him too much morphine and he can’t think straight anymore.”

 

Thank God that was with what he was injected with. Not that morphine was harmless and a walk in the park, but he figured that he wasn’t addicted to it just yet since he was feeling honestly nauseous not that it was wearing off and the phantom pains of the slaps and cut were more than vengeful.

 

“I can think straight enough to know that you can’t kill me unless you want your boss to do bad things to you and something tells me that the man can be quite brutal if he’s disappointed.” He did his best not to flinch or shrink in on himself when one of the gorillas marched up to him, hoping that the morphine was still strong enough to lessen the blow.

 

But the man just kicked his chair. “We’re out of beer. You keep an eye on his royal majesty over here and I’ll be right back.”

 

“I don’t suppose you can also buy me a pair of socks if you’re popping out for refreshments?” Q shouted and the door slammed shut. Good, only one left.

 

Actually, not too good because he didn’t know what the first man was doing or if the second man had found that brand of water he wanted – it was pretty expensive, so he seriously doubted he’d have an easy time finding it in this neighbourhood but the man could easily give up as he wasn’t bound by anything to do what Q told him to do. And yet, they must be under an order to keep him comfortable because they were going out of their way to do things for him.

 

“My hands and legs are really numb and I am very sure it’s not because of the cold.” Might as well try to get himself free. “Oh, come on. Where am going to go? You have the keys, I am wounded, and I also have no idea where I am. You’re also better built than I am and mostly drug free, so you’ll be able to capture me before I can take two steps towards the door.”

 

The man mulled on his words for a moment before slowly making his way towards him. “I also have a gun,” he said, flashing Q his weapon. “Boss said we couldn’t kill you, but he didn’t say anything about putting you in a coma if you go too far.”

 

“And would walking around the chair be too far?” Q asked, rubbing his wrists.

 

Q had to struggle not to snort as the man honestly thought about that. “I guess that just around the chair wouldn’t be too far away.” Left alone with the idiot of the group, so if you ignored the fact that he was kidnapped, Q thought this to be a lucky day. “But don’t move too close to the door, or else I’ll really shoot you right between your eyes.”

 

“I think that would kill me,” Q pointed out, subtly taking out the needle for his arm and testing to see if he could stand if he didn’t lean on the IV stand. “Might I suggest you aim for a part of my body that doesn’t hold such a vital organ? Maybe my legs?” He took a deep breath, clutched the stand tightly and swung as hard as he could, quickly hitting his groaning captor twice on the back after he tumbled to the ground. “I’ll also ask you not to be dead and forgive me for not wasting my time checking your pulse,” he muttered as he ran out of the room.

 

He had hoped to run into a small hallway and then find the exit door, but all of his good luck ended when he – hopefully – knocked out the moron as he found himself in the middle of a large warehouse that seemed to be a maze with the way the shelves were arranged. The windows were also of no help, too high for him not to lose too much time if he attempted to reach one.

 

Logic was also ditched because the room he got out of seemed to be built in the middle of everything – and he cussed those deceptive windows with so much hatred, asking himself over and over again why the bloody hell were they even put there in the first place – and there were no visible markers that led to an exit – not even to an emergency exit.

 

He wanted to scream. “Just my luck to be screwed for the first time in many years and not even in the good way.”

 

A few lefts, rights, and dead ends and he wanted to cry, covering his mouth and forcing himself to focus on what was happening when he heard a door open and close – and of course the room carried an echo because why wouldn’t it?

 

Hurried steps, cusses, and bangs started to echo not too long after that and Q kept to the shadows as best as he could, crouching low and covering his mouth to control his breathing when three men armed with AK-47s stopped two forgotten boxes away from him.

 

“How the fuck are we expected to find anyone in here?” One of the man asked, fingers obviously twitching. “It’s a fucking maze! We should have had the worm chipped.”

 

Another man kicked one of the crates he was behind. “Yeah, well the boss didn’t and the worm is out and we better find it before…” He trailed off and everyone nodded, Q’s curiosity burning him more than the face.

 

But not enough to be dumb and trail off after them to hear them finish their conversation, deciding that the best chance he had at getting out was to keep going in the direction they came from even if they themselves seemed lost.

 

He ran into two dead ends out of which he had to carefully backtrack, forced to be even more quick to hide when more and more guards started to show up. They were more on the edge, annoyed, even scared, jumping and pointing their guns at the corners from where rats scurried out, visibly having a hard time holding back from squeezing the trigger.

 

It was as if they were trying to keep their position hidden and judging by the screams coming from the other side of the building that had to be the right idea. On that note, Q realized that he had to be going in the wrong direction because if there was an intruder, surely he had to come through the… No, that didn’t sound right. An intruder would use the back door – if this place had such a thing – so he was most definitely going in the right direction.

 

“Then why is this yet another dead end?” He whispered, dropping his makeshift weapon so he could run his hands through his hair. The fear and panic were finally starting to get to him and he hated the fact that he wasn’t strong enough to punch his way through the  wall and in the safe embrace of ‘not in this bloody maze’!

 

He must have sat there for five minutes, in complete silence and desperation and that’s when it dawned on him. It was _complete_ silence; no cusses, no screams, no sunken popping noises, no nothing, so something was definitely off and, most importantly, dangerous.

 

Someone stepped behind him and without thinking, Q lifted the IV stand and rushed at the intruder, eyes closed, and hoping that bullets somehow hurt less than glass shards. But he wasn’t shot. He got hit over the hands until he dropped his only way of protection and when the other realized that didn’t plan on giving up without a fight, kicked him in the stomach.

 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the man muttered, pushing him to his chest and not allowing him to fall down. “They said they only went for the face, so you’ll be just fine as soon as the pain goes away.” He ran his hands down his back and it finally clicked in Q’s mind who exactly was holding him and he clung back.

 

“You’re not safe,” he whimpered, shaking from every bone of his body. “He said—the man said that—”

 

James tilted his head back and cupped his chin, resting their foreheads together. “Q, darling, listen to me: my safety doesn’t matter.” He pecked his lips when Q made to interrupt him, smiling when he saw his shocked expression. “I’ll guide you out, we’ll have the doctors take a good look at you, give you some mouthwash or bubble gum, and after you regained your senses, we’ll have a long conversation about everything and then you can start to hate me.”

 

He was distracted from his questions by the safety and warmness moving away, looking confused at the tie held in front of him. “What are you doing?”

 

James looked apologetically at him. “You’re traumatized enough as it is and it’s really messy back there.” Q took a step back, fear obvious in his eyes, and James followed him. “Q, I am not… They were bad people. They wanted to hurt you and…” He trailed off and sighed, rubbing his face. “It sounds like I am a bit deranged, doesn’t it?”

 

“V-very deranged,” Q stuttered, looking around for a way out.

 

James made to cup his head again, but drew back when he saw him flinch. “This kind of conversation isn’t to be had in the field, Q. The five words I have to tell you bring so many others with them and… I am a secret agent,” he said quickly when it was clear that Q wanted to bolt. “I am a double oh agent, which is the deadliest type of agent MI6 has and… Oh, do shut up, M, and have Medical wait for us outside,” he interrupted himself, taking out an earwig and stepping on it. “I’ll never hear the end of that, you know? She’s very anal about the way I treat—”

 

Q slapped him and walked around him, heart dropping in his stomach when he almost tripped over an obviously dead body.  “I’ll take the tie,” he muttered. “And a restraining order against you as soon as this is done.” And maybe a psychiatrist and someone from child protection. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be the last chapter, but my muse is my muse.

At first, Q did his best to carry on as if nothing had happened and trying to ignore the consequences of that nothing. He refused to dwell on the fact that he had been taken back to the MI6 imposing building where an army of doctors gave him a thorough check-up under the not so subtle glare of James Bond who was respectful enough to try and hide behind the door. He also most definitely did not meet with the head of the spy agency that, after two hours of very thinly implied apologizing, made him sign a non-disclosure contract and he rejected the universe in which he ended up being followed around by two bodyguards until the madman that most certainly didn’t exist from that very real nightmare he tried his hardest to forget.

 

But pretending that ‘Mister Bond’ didn’t exist/happen was extremely hard, because he missed the children something terrible and he felt as if he was hurting them. The first night he spent back in his apartment, he tossed and turned and searched for a decent sleeping spot and position in so many rooms that the non-existent guards eventually knocked on his door, identified themselves and made sure Q remembered them from MI6 before checking around the apartment to make sure that no one had snuck in and that he was truly safe.

 

Q fought with himself for a moment, digging his nails in the palm of his hands in an attempt to keep himself from stopping them, but his curiosity and worry for the two boys were just too much. “Wait, could you please tell me how Victor and Jaime are doing?” He asked weakly, worrying his lower lip. “Are they okay?”

 

The two men exchanged a glance, shifting from one foot to another as Q’s anxiety continued to grow. “Mister Bond,” the shorter of the two started slowly, stopping to clear his throat and rub the back of his neck, “isn’t the most social of our co-workers, so we wouldn’t really know something like that.”

 

“Well, none of the 00s are,” the other chimed in. “But Mister Bond is particularly private and only speaks with those who are in his small circle of friends. In fact, he wasn’t even aware that we existed until we were assigned to you.”

 

Without realizing, Q had drifted to his kitchen, the men carefully following him inside as he had started to make everyone tea. “Oh, well I imagine there are a lot of agents there, so maybe he didn’t…” He trailed off when he realized that he was making up excuses for the other, perhaps setting the two mugs with a bit too much force.

 

“Well, we can’t tell you that,” one of the agents said, the other one nodding furiously. “But we can tell you that he’ll forget about us the second it is decided that you no longer need us and, in all honesty, we can’t wait for that to happen because he’s horrifying.”

 

Surprised and a bit offended, Q forgot to stop pouring tea and the warm liquid was now spilling on the kitchen counter. “How is he horrifying?” And that was the first step he took towards accepting the reality he was living in.

 

That night he found out that the tall agent was John Wolfgramm and that the shorter one was Sam Johnston and that both of them originally wanted to become double oh agents, but they were starting to rethink that idea since James had made it clear that he was going to have their souls for brunch if so much as a single hair on Q’s hair was disturbed and yes, that applied even when he was willingly getting a haircut.

 

They told him that when they weren’t on duty or at home, sleeping, James was pretty much riding their backs about how well trained they were – or rather, they weren’t. The man liked to ambush them on their way to M’s office – wait, did he know who M was or did they tell him too much? He did, so they could relax – with a paintball gun and just when they thought they were safe and sound in their boss’ office, Alec would jump out from behind something, scare them and start to list all the things they did wrong.

 

“Should I worry?” Q tried to joke and pretend that he didn’t feel dread starting to make its way in his heart.

 

The two agents glanced at each other, then at Q, and then back each other again, quickly shaking their heads. “We’re tires and years above the ones that were tasked with keeping you safe before, we promise.”

 

“But you’re also less,” Q stammered before he could stop himself. “And I am distracting you right now and keeping you from getting your rest which could result in—”

 

“Mister Boothroyd, please calm down,” Sam said slowly, carefully taking Q’s hand and guiding him towards the bedroom. “We are the two agents out in the open, but there is another team that follows us around and I think I saw the former 006 skulking around the street outside the apartment before we went in, so you can be more than assured that you are safe.”

 

Q blinked slowly, tilting his head to the right a little. “Who’s the former 006?”

 

The agents looked like they just realized they said something stupid. “Again, something we can’t tell you,” John started, sighing when he saw the distrust in Q’s eyes. They were expecting this young civilian who had recently been betrayed by someone he had fully trusted and considered more than a friend, to trust a couple of trained assassins he didn’t know anything about and who were dodging his questions. “Maybe we can hint at his identity?”  

 

Sam hummed, tapping his chin. “Well, John used the right pronoun and I’ll add that he uses an Eastern European accent when he feels like it and that he has a tendency to stick as close as possible to 007.”

 

Q instantly put two and two together and he was livid with anger. Of course Alec had to be a spy himself given how close he was to James and how he moved and acted. Sure, the army could have explained some of his habits, but Q should have seen that his reflexes and impulses weren’t dulled as they should have been for a retired army man, but sharp and better, as if the man had spent years fine tuning the tricks he picked up and learning new ones meant to allow him an easier infiltration in whatever environment he needed to be.   

                                                                                                                            

“Maybe you should go get some rest? It is already three in the morning and…” Sam trailed off when he saw how devastated Q looked. So much for throwing him a bone and making him feel like he belonged just a little in the world he had been dragged in. “Please take it as a compliment when I say that, with a little bit of training, you could be a really good interrogation agent.”

 

Q’s eyes narrowed so much that they were practically closed and before he could say even more embarrassing things, John grabbed Sam’s arm and started tugging him towards the door. “How does it sound if we’ll just go back outside to our posts and we can pretend that the previous conversation never happened?”

 

“It actually sounds like the greatest plan on earth,” Q seethed at them, practically throwing the mugs in the sink without really understanding why he was fuming – though he suspected it was because he had been thrown in a world in which he wasn’t allowed to know things about. “And remind _Mister Bond_ that Jamie starts acting classes and Victor starts his football training.”

 

“He might go for our throats if we—” Q slammed the door in their faces before Sam could finish what he was saying and then sullenly returned to ignoring reality.

 

This play-pretend lasted for three more days until the fragile bubble of denial he had managed to build around himself was smashed by Jamie and Victor crashing into his legs and clinging to them so hard that they instantly went numb. His MI6 issues security detail was hot on their heels and then the building’s own security guards hot on theirs, and Q was honestly waiting for the Benny Hill song to kick at any moment.

 

“They’re Mister Bond’s children,” Q said softly, placing his hands over their backs in a protective manner and the MI6 agents came to a sudden halt a few millimetres away from the children, the other guards bumping into them as if they were playing out a scene from a dumb comedy. “Did you two run away again?”

 

“We missed you!” Victor exploded, shocking Q as he was usually more composed and controlled than this. “You _promised_ we’d go to the zoo together, then Alec and Auntie Eve acted funny, then dad’s forehead vein is about to explode, and then he said that he did something stupid and that we can never see you again.,” he said in one go, gasping for air

 

“Why?” Jamie screeched at the top of his lungs, looking so hurt and betrayed that Q’s heart broke. “You _promised_ and you said never to break your promise and you broke your promise and you…and you…”

 

One of his team leads ushered him and the children inside the conference rooms that didn’t have any see-through walls and Q managed to somehow pull both of them on his knees. He kept silent as one of his co-workers awkwardly placed a few bottles of water on the tabled and then quickly made themselves scarce, giving them some privacy.

 

“Please think back of the times you ran to me the first time and take deep breaths and then small sips of water,” Q said softly, sending _that_ blocked number a text to inform him that yes, the children are safe and yes, they are with him, and bloody hell yes, he can come and pick his children up if he’s not too busy spying, but not address him at all.

 

“You,” Jamie would start and then forget how to from words, moment in which his brother would take over, only to prove that he himself had forgotten how English worked. The tears finally disappeared after Q had forced them to tea his sandwiches, though he had managed to get multiple heart attacks when it looked like they were about to swallow their own tongues and die.

 

“Your father and I hit a bit of a snag,” he started to say the second he saw Victor open his mouth and new tears forming in the corner of his eyes. “I want to make it clear that you two are not at fault for this and that we still love you very much,” and that he couldn’t believe he was giving them the ‘your father and I are getting a divorce’ speech he heard numerous times on TV.

 

“Then why,” a sob, “did dad say,” another sob, “that you can’t,” a cough and then a sharp intake of breath, “ever meet with us ever again?” And Victor went into another, full-blown crying fit.

 

Because dad is a complete moron, he wanted to say. And also because dad he was a horrible secret agent if he couldn’t find the right lie to keep his children from hurting – though the bad part might be up for debate because of that, unless you applied the one white lie needed to keep balance in the children’s psychic. But of course he couldn’t say that or else he would really turn into the toxic ex-wife from those shows who used her children as weapons against her former husband and who forgot what water tasted like, so he carefully worded his reasoning.

 

“He didn’t mean that _we_ would never meet again; just that he and I couldn’t ever be in the same room again.” There, that had to be slightly better, even if the crying didn’t subside one bit. In fact, that seemed to somehow make them cry harder which meant that he was the horrible one in this story. “Oh, darlings, please try to stop crying. Tears won’t really solve anything.”

 

“But we miss you,” Victor said between hiccups, rubbing his eyes so furiously that Q was afraid he’d take out his eyes. “And whatever dad did, he didn’t mean it. You know dad is a complete idiot.”

 

“Victor!” Q snapped at him, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Do not ever call your father that,” even if it was the truth. “Look,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair and then quickly moving his arm around Jamie to keep him from falling, “I’ll try to talk with your father and see if he’d agree to me taking you to the zoo and to the movies every now and then.”

 

“We don’t want you to do that just because you have to,” Jamie grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and frowning. “We want you to hang out with us because you want to, not because we made you.”

 

Maybe he could balance them on his knees in such a way that he could hit his head against his desk until he passed out and not drop them? “I _want_ to hang out with you—”

 

“But he doesn’t want to see me,” Mister Bond’s soft voice drifted from the door and Q’s heart dropped in his stomach at the same time Jamie and Victor clung harder to him. “Sorry to barge in like this, Mister Boothroyd.”

 

Because it hurt to even look at him, Q fixated a spot somewhere on his desk. “It’s no bother in this case, even though you are ignoring the last part of my text,” he said softly. “Have you talked with their teachers, or do you need me to call and explain why they didn’t show up today?”

 

“I talked with them,” James said quickly. “I said they were sick.” He searched for Q’s gaze, licking his lips. “Should I have said something else? Do I need to take them to a doctor now and get him to give them medical leave from school? Should I have said that they ran away from home? Because I am pretty sure I can call and tell them the truth.”

 

Q arched his eyebrow. “Well, that depends; do you _want_ the child protective services to knock on your door and poke their nose in your private affairs?”

 

The second James clicked his tongue, Q wanted to strangle him because he had walked right in his trap. “So, you’re saying that lying is acceptable in some cases?” He kind of loved his work keyboard, but he could sacrifice it if that meant that he could bash it over the pompous bastard’s head. “Am I hearing you correctly?” His computer could also be a very good thing that would get the bastard to stop talking.

 

“Don’t twist my words,” Q snapped and the boys jumped on their feet, trying to glare at their father. “This and _that_ are two very different cases,” he added in a calmer voice, getting up to turn the children towards him. “Children, how about you to go with one of the many people that are glued to my door as we speak, to test some games from us?” The glares were now directed at him. “Your father and I need to have a serious conversation.”

 

“Conversation which I wanted to have the second we were back in my office building,” James grumbled.

 

“Yes, while I wanted you to crawl in a corner and die and to find a machine that would erase the last years of my life,” Q shot back, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

James sighed, running a hand through his hair while Alec sneaked in, threw the two boys – who pretty much hissed at the strangers who tried to lure them outside of the verbal battle field – over his shoulders and ran away. “I couldn’t exactly tell you that I am a spy and not expect you to think that I am insane.”

 

If James could stop making sense so Q’s point could be made, that would be great. “If you would have taken me to MI6, I would have…” He trailed off, something suddenly occurring to him. “I know there’s a huge possibility that me asking you to be truthful will either kill you or start a very violent allergic reaction—”

 

“I lie only when I have to!”

 

“—but try to be honest and tell me if all those meetings on which you took me _and_ your children around the world were connected to your job.” James opened and closed his mouth, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh my God, you actually endangered your kids!”

 

“No, no, no I didn’t,” James defended himself. “Yes, the people I met with were spies,” he threw himself over the table to grab Q’s phone before he could call M, “but they were all my friends from other agencies and every meeting was a mock meeting because I really wanted to go somewhere nice with you and the kids and we both know you would have turned me down if I didn’t say I need you to babysit them!”

 

Q snorted. “So you think admitting that you used your children and maybe put them in danger to trick me into spending my free time with you makes it okay to do that?” He felt horrible the moment he heard those words out loud as well as petrified with fear when he saw how livid James looked.

 

“My children weren’t in danger for a single second,” James growled at him, backing Q into a corner. “Don’t you _ever_ dare to imply that I would willingly do something to hurt them, understand? And yes, I am 100% sure they weren’t in danger because I would never ever ask someone who I didn’t fully trust to interact with them.” He raised his hands and Q flinched, pushing against the wall as much as he could. “Or with you,” James said softer, fingers ghosting over Q’s cheek before pulling away.

 

It took him a moment to remember how to think and form words, lost in the memory of James’ warm and soft touch and in how much he missed it. “I know you wouldn’t willingly put your children in harm’s way and I am sorry I said you did that.” He awkwardly placed his hand on James’ shoulder, giving him something between a pat and a squeeze. “You’re a great father.” 

 

In his usual, surprising way, James turned around faster that one could blink and grabbed Q’s hand, gently running his thumb over his knuckles. “I didn’t mean to scare you, but it’s just that I see red whenever I think that I might lose them or you. I promise I wouldn’t have hurt you and I am honestly telling you the truth because if anyone else but you would have said those words, my hands would have been wrapped around their necks the second they opened their months.”

 

Q tugged his hand free and stepped away from James. “As creepily as it sounds, I understand that and everything is fine,” he assured him, sitting down at his desk, tapping his fingers against the top of his desk while the awkward silence stretched even more and became the perfect example of something uncomfortable.

 

“So, are we over the whole me not telling you—?”

 

“No, we aren’t,” Q interrupted him, laughing nervously. “And surprisingly enough it’s not because I have to see a psychiatrist, but because you _lied_ to me—” He stopped himself and took a deep breath, throwing his glasses on the desk so he could pinch the bridge of his nose in an attempt to focus on a single thought. “Look, I still love Jamie and Victor a lot,” he slapped his desk to keep James silent, regretting his choice of words, “so maybe we can work out a sort of a schedule that would allow them to get used to the idea of me not being a part of their lives.”

 

James let out a dejected sigh. “None of us will ever get used to that, Q. They love you and I care deeply about you.” He made to grab Q’s hand, but he turned away from him. “Can we talk about that face to face, or do we need to get our lawyers for that? I can lend you a lawyer if you really want to get the divorce route, but I can’t guarantee that he won’t also be rooting for me and don’t blame me if I also end up with you at the end of everything.”

 

And just when he thought the man couldn’t be more of a bastard – that loved his children and did everything he could for them – than he already was. “So not only did you lie to me, thought so little of me that you assumed fancy vacations would get me in your bed, but now you also see me as an object?” he asked slowly, blood boiling.

 

“Wait, I didn’t mean it like that,” James breathed out, shaking his head. “I thought the tension between us had eased enough for us to go back to—”

 

“Get out,” Q growled, feeling like his heart was about to explode in cold fear as he threw his stapler at the quickly closing door.

 

He took a moment to compose himself, counting back from ten and everything, and when his ears stopped ringing and the world ceased to be filled with red spots of anger, he stepped out of his office and braced himself for the pity pats and the mandatory assurances that his next marriage will be better. He also expected Jamie and Victor to want to spend the rest of the day with him and for his team lead to ask someone to keep on watching the children while they had that talk with him which would render him jobless.

 

“We’ll go to the zoo as soon as I am done talking with my team leader, okay?” Q said softly, running his fingers through their messy hair and rearranging their shirts.

 

Victor caught his hand and moved closer to him, looking around with eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I think he wants to fire you,” he whispered, fisting his little hands. “Do you want me and Jamie to get him to change his mind?”

 

He was going to be the most adorable mobster ever, Q thought for a moment before mentally kicking himself until he remembered how to be a responsible adult. “I’d like to meet with your new nanny sometimes this week.”

 

Jamie frowned. “You already did, Q, remember?”

 

“Trust me, that nanny is already the old one,” he muttered, patting his head. “Now off you go and I promise I’ll be there in about ten minutes.” It couldn’t possibly take longer than that to get fired and to empty one’s desk, right? “And don’t try to guilt anyone into giving you free games; you’re in enough trouble as it is.”

 

The second his meeting with his team leader started was when his expectations stopped being met – and he couldn’t really complain about that. Instead of getting fired, he was sort of forced into taking two weeks off with pay to get everything in his life straightened out, the man going as far as to present him with an official document that promised him just that. In fact, the man was nervous and outright begging and when Q still hadn’t said everything, the company CEO was conferenced in and the man seemed to be terrified.

 

“Before you say anything, sir,” Q started, feeling his eye start to twitch, “were you, by any chance, contacted by a man named James Bond or by someone else who puts on a thick, Russian accent when he wants to be intimidating over the phone?”

 

The man pretended that he had no idea what Q was talking about, but the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead told a different tale. Well, Q wasn’t going to pass on this type of opportunity, but he was still going to have a conversation against his will with the two when he dropped off Jamie and Victor.

 

“So, should we kick the old man’s arse?” Jamie asked as he cracked his knuckles exactly like Alec did whenever someone cut in front of them.

 

“No,” Q chuckled, tugging gently on Jamie’s ear. “But I hope you like the taste of Jasmine soap because you’re going to get a good mouth washing for using such language. And Victor will get one as well for talking about your father the way he did,” he added quickly before the two brothers could start arguing.

 

The trip to the zoo was as pleasant as their lunch and dinner at the two, semi-fancy restaurants they went to, but the trip home and the actual dropping off was as horrible as he thought it would be. Jamie and Victor had poured glue on their seatbelts and then locked Q outside his own car, where he and James first got hit with a hint of a panic attack and then dipped their toes just a little bit in what would have ended up being a heated conversation if it weren’t for Jamie hitting the car’s horn to get their attention.

 

“We’ll stop arguing if you get out there,” James said between gritted teeth, fake smile blinding everyone within a mile radius.

 

His boys were, of course, not falling for it. In fact, they stuck their tongues out at them. “Just jimmy the bloody thing,” Q whispered, pushing James closer to the car. “We both know that you know how to do it and even if you didn’t, I am pretty sure you have something that could do it in your place.”

 

James kneeled next to the door, brushing his hand over the lock. “I’m grounding them for five years after we get them out of there.” He flinched and Q leaned over his shoulder, swatting his hand away to see the scratch he left behind. “Make that six?”  

 

The kids ended up getting a two month sentence, time in which they wouldn’t see Q – they would talk with him over the phone, but not meet with him. To top that off and to ensure that they wouldn’t try to run away again, Q promised if he or his ‘friends’ so much as see a single strand of their hair, he would never even speak to them.

 

“You are truly a master if you have them wrapped around your little finger at this age still,” Alec spoke up just as Q was letting himself out. “Then again, your partial control over them might be explained by the fact that while they know for sure that James will always be by their side as he is their father and me because I am their loving uncle, you—”

 

“I am just as angry with you as I am with James,” Q cut him off, poking his chest. “No, angrier still that you lied even more as I had to find out through others that you two shared the same job,” he added carefully, trying to focus on anything else other than the image of the dead body that was burned into his brain.

 

“Focus on my voice,” James muttered softly, pushing his chest against Q’s back, his warmth acting like an anchor to reality. “You’re safe here, in the now, not there.” He ran his hands down Q’s arms and without meaning to, he relaxed and breathed in his scent, eyes fluttering shut. “Stay here today and continue to hate me tomorrow?”

 

He was so tempted to nod that it actually hurt to restrain himself, but he found enough strength – and misunderstood fear – to push away and pull the door open. “A momentary drop in my calcium levels,” he muttered. “Have a pleasant night.”

 

The first thing he did when he woke up the following day was to go to the psychiatrist which he then started to visit regularly, slowly discovering what his real issue was and then working to get over it. 

 

Much to his shock, while disturbed and bothered by being kidnapped, he was progressing quite fine with recovering from that. He wasn’t checking his back every second, he didn’t jump at every noise, he didn’t flinch whenever he saw a shadow, and he seemed to consider Sam and John as nuisances and reminders of kept secrets by those he cared about more than protectors or possible enemies.

 

No, he wasn’t exactly traumatised by the kidnapping, his psychiatrist concluded after their sixth meeting. He was bothered by the glimpse he caught of the dead body, but because he was subconsciously afraid that he was going to end up like that by James’ own hand. He was also slightly scared of Alec since he now knew he himself had been a spy, but not as much since he never saw the outcome of truly crossing.

 

“You’re wrong,” Q hissed, kicking the table. “I even implied something horrible by accident and while he snapped at me, he didn’t hurt me.” He was shaking and having a hard time breathing because he was angry, not because he was scared. “We’re done for today.”

 

His psychiatrist nodded, closing his notebook. “If that is what you feel.” Q huffed, nodding, and the man sighed. “Before you leave, let me stress out the fact that double oh— _James_ would never ever willingly hurt you, no matter how much you do your best to irritate him.”

 

Q made sure to slam the door shut behind him as hard as he could, throwing his noise cancelling headphones over his ears and codding like mad. All he had to do was focus on the lines and on the things he had to do afterwards and then he could forget the stupid conclusion that joke of a psychiatrist reached.

 

His guards ended up having to drag him home and pretty much confiscate all his computers and laptops to ensure that he actually got him rest. The doctor’s words didn’t help his next meeting with James, his heart dropping in his stomach for all the wrong reasons the next time they met, turning pale and shivering until they parted ways again – James had been smart enough to send Alec to pick his boys up, but that was confirmation enough that he needed to go back to the fraud and have him undo what he did.

 

***

 

There were only a few moments in his life in which he actually questioned his abilities as a spy. So he got caught every now and then, made things worse by sleeping with the wrong wife, and blew up this or that building by accident – in most cases – but he always knew what to say to get himself in certain places or out of tight situations and yet now, when it really mattered to him and him only, his mouth got him out of the frying pan and into the fire.

 

But how was he supposed to know that he wasn’t in the green yet to use his usual jokes/one-liners that always had Q at least chuckling? He hadn’t meant to insult him, just like he hadn’t meant to lie to him – pretending to be something else was surely encoded in his DNA by now, so not his bloody fault – or to get him kidnapped. And yet, he had done something so horrible to offend the universe that he might as well have called Q a sofa, announced that he is a politician, and slapped a princess dress on him and thrown him at the first dragon he saw.

 

Alec got hit over the head with a pipe, but he shrugged off the pain and backhanded the attacker into a wall. “Should a miracle happen and the two of you start going to a marriage councillor, I advise you never to mention the fact that you associated him with a damsel in distress unless you want him to become a widower by his own hand.”

 

James groaned, breaking a man’s arm, hitting him in the face with the butt of his own gun, and then throwing him into a wall. “Seriously, why do I even bother?” Though this could be karma’s way of getting back at him for pretty much every little thing he did in his life, even though most of them were for the greater good of the world.

 

“Hey, if you want someone to carefully lead you to the truth instead of hitting you with it over the face, stop terrifying the psychiatrists.” He patted James’ back, giving him a sympathetic smile. “And since we’re still on the Q subject, did I or did I not tell you to tell him the truth?”

 

James started to clap slowly, eyes narrowed. “A very nice and roundabout way of telling me that you told me so to begin with.”

 

Alec took a small bow, pushing James’ chair away just in time for a bullet to miss him. “Just wait until Eve tells you her version of that, although I suspect that M gave her a helping hand with it since it has a higher level of bitchiness than usual.” He narrowly avoided a bullet meant for him before managing to take cover behind the same crate as James. “Back to Q himself for a moment, he just started to talk to me again, so don’t expect me to bring him any other bribes anymore or else I’ll get back on his list.”

 

For the better really, since the gifts continued to insult Q instead of pacify him. Actually, now that he thought about it, everything he tried to do was getting him nowhere and he had been doing his best for the past four months. It was tiring and exhausting and the last psychiatrist that M had forced down his throat because she was afraid he was becoming obsessed mentioned that he should start to accept the fact that Q would never forgive him – and then promptly bolted out the door, yelling for security, because he reacted a bit violent at the idea of never ever being in Q’s presence.

 

But it was finally time to accept reality for what it was. “I’ll go pick up the boys myself this time,” he said with determination in his voice. “Yes, Alec, I am sure about that,” he continued, already knowing what the other wanted to say. “I just don’t think I can stand seeing him shiver with disgust whenever his eyes land on me, so this is going to be a closure both for myself and him.” He activated a little toy that he snatched from the technical department and threw it over the shoulder, eliminating four of the last five guards. “I should have knocked him out.”

 

Alec stopped from breaking the last man’s hand, picking him up and throwing him against a wall. “Right, because continuing to lie to him until you both found yourself in a situation without escape would have been the right thing to do. I mean, you and Vesper do share a lot more than offspring, right?”

 

James growled, but the wounds caused by Vesper had long since turned into simple scars that only stung every now and then. “I suppose he could feel the same as I did when the truth revealed itself.”

 

The door before them was an outright insult and Alec made quick work of it, though he chose to show that by going overboard with the three explosives planted on it. “This might come out the wrong way, but I don’t think he feels disgust when he sees you.” He dodged the stray bullets shot at his way by their terrified target, breaking the man’s weapon in half and dragging him from behind the desk by the scruff of his neck. “Are you turning this thing into a closure gift for Q?”

 

James cracked his knuckles, punching the bastard that had he personally held responsible for the rip between himself and Q. “He will never lay eyes on Q or daylight again.” He readied himself to punch the man one more time, but Alec moved him away, looking worried. “I didn’t mean that I was going to kill him.”

 

Alec shrugged, hitting the man against a wall hard enough to make him pass out. “Hey, if you saw yourself the way you looked at him just then, you wouldn’t have blamed me for thinking that.”

 

A though crossed James’ mind and he glanced around for a reflective surface. He’d like to say that he always had control over himself, but that wasn’t the truth. While there were many missions in which he could ‘play’ with his targets there were just as many in which the enemy knew just what buttons they needed to push that sent him over the age and got him to act like a wild animal and Q in danger was one such a button.

 

“Do you think Q saw me?”

 

Alec frowned. “I am pretty sure that he sees you every time you two meet? Or are you asking about the times you skulk around in the shadows to make sure—”

 

“No, I meant if he saw me looking angry back when I went to save him,” he cleared up, helping himself to the information on the man’s private laptop – just because this was an unofficial mission that he was going to get a lot of heat for didn’t mean that he couldn’t check for useful information that would get at least some of MI6 on his side when M was going to ask for his head and balls on a silver platter.

 

“I wish I could say that you’re being ridiculous, but now that I actually put some thought into it, it sounds quite plausible,” Alec said after a moment, sympathetically squeezing James’ shoulder. “What’s your next step?”


	5. Chapter 5

“I’ve lost my eyesight,” Jamie announced the moment they set foot in the art museum and Q let out a really long sigh. “It honestly is,” Jamie started to insist when Q simply took hold of his hand and started to guide him around, “so I can’t do something as boring as a report on a boring old paining.”

 

“I’ll describe the paintings to you,” Q said drily, Victor snickering on his other side, “so you will not get out of this project. Now march around this museum, pick a painting and start writing about it,” he ordered, ruffling the sullen Jamie’s head.

 

“Wouldn’t it be better to cut out the middle man and just have you write the stupid thing for me?” Jamie tried and Q flicked his nose.

 

James watched the whole display with adoration, a small smile appearing on his lips despite his wish to remain stoic. His plan was to have a simple conversation with Q, put all of his cards on the table and ask him to do the same and see if they could reach an understanding, not skulk around in the shadows and watch him like a creeper that his spy job had made him be – but the unwanted outcome was in the back of his head and he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to see Q this relaxed and around his children, so he figured a little peek wouldn’t hurt all that much.

 

“The baby in this painting looks too much like a man and the woman looks like a badly CGI zombie from that movie dad took us last weekend,” Jamie announced and Q let out a long sigh, no doubt already preparing one of his long, handwritten in chicken-scratch letters in which he admonished his choices when it came to entertaining his children – he kept all of them in a box he kept in the safe in his office.

 

“Weren’t you blind a second ago?” He teased, taking a left turn and heading down to the Italian painters. “Step away from the pictures and statues of naked women, Jamie, and if I catch you peeving anyone like that, make no mistakes that I will tug those ears right off,” James heard Q’s voice and he chuckled, shaking his head.

 

He supposed that the apple really didn’t fall too far away from the tree, even if he had done is best not to introduce his lady friends to them unless he though the relationship was truly going somewhere. But that didn’t mean that his boys didn’t have eyes and they were reaching that very hard period of their lives in which girls no longer had cooties and their attentions were now more than welcomed.

 

But he couldn’t help but still see those little barrels of energy from all those years ago, especially since they both had the habit of clinging to Q’s jacket when they walked around, allowing him to be their guide in the enormous museum and Jamie – the boy who insisted just two days ago that he was now a man and didn’t need his father to sign on his bad grades or pick his clothes for the biannual meeting with the headmistress – looked like he fully trusted Q with picking out his school project.

 

“We won’t find anything and I’ll fail that stupid class,” Jamie said with a hint of desperation in his voice.

 

James almost walked out in the open, but stopped just in the nick of time and ducked behind a statue. He would talk with Q and he would stop being a spy for the day only after the trio found the right painting since he didn’t want his son to get yet another bad grade – and he wanted to see Q as part of his family just for a little longer.

 

“We talked about being dramatic, Jamie,” Q chided. “What about paintings with pirate ships or wars? Do you think you’d be able to write a report on either one of those?”

 

A rhetorical question more than anything as Q knew quite well what the boys preferred and what they didn’t and even though he wasn’t in a position to see his son’s face, he was sure without a doubt that his eyes were sparkling with unchiselled inspiration.

 

“Can it be a pirate ship in the middle of a war?” The question that rang down the museum’s hallways not a second later and James pushed really close against the statue as Q was dragged down the corridor and then moved behind as Q walked back inside the room, dragging the now borderline hyperactive Jamie.  

 

James closed his eyes and enjoyed the brief moment in which he smelled nothing but Q, allowing himself a brief memory of the first time he had woken up next to him, how he had poked his face gently just to be sure that he was there, recoiling as if he had been burned when his surprise bedpartner started to murmur.

 

“I’ll wait for you in front of ‘The Fighting Temeraire’,” Q called behind his shoulder, his eyes catching James’ as he walked into another room, making it clear that he had told him that more than the children.

 

“I don’t know where that is,” Jamie called out.

 

“I’m sure Alec will lead you,” Q replied and James let out a sigh – and mentally applauded Q for spotting the other man as Alec was doing a better job than he when it came to hiding – coming right out from his hiding place and easily fell into step by his side.

 

They sat in heavy silence, James trying to ignore something that Eve would call an obvious metaphor while Q seemed honestly interested in it. James never really found the motivation in himself to even try to appreciate the expensive drawings, finding more pleasure in staring at what his children drew – then again, he hadn’t a choice up until they reached age five and he had repainted his entire house so many times that he was pretty sure he could have bought every painting in this place.

 

“Let’s pretend for a moment that we are different people,” James muttered, Q arching his eyebrow as he turned his attention to him, “that just met.” He turned a little and held out his hand to Q. “The name is Bond, James Bond. Just to get the whole ‘no talking with strangers’ part out of the way,” he whispered and winked at the stone faced Q.

 

James had a vague recollection of the first time he felt this small in front of someone else, but he was pretty sure he clung to his mother’s side five minutes later, after he decided that cooties were something real like he had seen on TV, so the way he was feeling now was ten time worse.

 

“Quinn Desmond Daniel Boothroyd,” Q said after what had to be the longest minute of James’ life, carefully taking James’ offered hand and shaking it. “Not so sure if it is a pleasure or a curse to make your acquaintance quite yet.”

 

As tempted as he was to never let go of Q, he didn’t hold on to his hand for too long. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Boothroyd.” A tense moment of silence passed in which he waited for Q to tell him that it was okay to refer to him as such, but no luck. “So, Mister Boothroyd, might I ask which one is your favourite painting in this museum?”

 

Q frowned and started to look around the room, his two guards reading his apprehension and calling the IT department to have every person present in that room checked – which ticketed the hell out of James because that was the first thing he had R did. “Is this your attempt at letting me have bad news, Mister Bond?” Q asked worriedly. “Is that man still after me? Is there someone else who wants to use me against you? Are the children in danger?”

 

He made to get up, terrified that he had sent them on their own – despite clearly knowing that Alec was trailing off after them to make sure nothing bad would happen – but James grabbed his hand to keep him in place. “I caught him,” James whispered, smiling rather proudly of that, “and it will be a very long time before he even stands, let alone walk to his cell’s door without using at least a crutch and longer still until anyone else has the horrible idea of trying to use the people I care for against me.”

 

“Start with that in the future you insufferable man,” Q snapped at him, pulling his hand free and pushing his glasses on top of his head so he could rest his face in his hands. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, leaning against James.

 

James didn’t waste a single second in wrapping his arm around Q and moving to make him more comfortable, or in feeling even guiltier than he already was. “I didn’t think things through,” he rarely did and everyone told him that constantly, but the last year of his life was the proof that he was finally willing to accept, “but I will do my best so we don’t find ourselves in a situation similar to this in the future.”

 

“The fact that I truly believe you’ll have to just that scares me,” Q muttered, shivering.

 

“Is that all that scares you?” James asked carefully, cupping Q’s face. “Are you afraid that I might slip up again and allow any of my enemies even breathe the same air of the continent that you and my children are on if they aren’t behind bars with at least fifty of their bones broken, jaw included? Or are you also afraid that I might somehow hurt you?”

 

It looked like Q wanted to argue but all that came out when he opened his mouth to do so was a strangled sound that sounded like something a small kitten would let out when it got confused. He then frowned and let out a sigh, easily slipping out of James’ hold in favour of pacing around a bit, flexing his fingers.

 

“You are an assassin,” he whispered, glancing towards the door. “What if you decide that I know too much that I need to be done away with?” He started to take sharper breaths, visibly shaking as his green eyes continued to become wider and more filled with fear. “I don’t want to walk on eggshells around you just because you could—”

 

“Then don’t, because I won’t,” James interrupted him, jumping up and pulling Q in his arms, resting their foreheads together. “You out of all people have nothing to worry about when it comes to me and Alec is living,” he put a bit more accent on that word than it was necessary, “proof that I don’t fly into blind fits of rage.” Q still looked apprehensive at him and while on a level James understood that it took _time_ to get used to get used to something like this, he still wanted things to move along faster. “Also, I may have a licence to kill,” Q pulled in on himself a little, “but I do not use it on a whim. I do not kill those who don’t deserve it—”

 

“Who are you to decide that?”

 

“I do not; they do.” James rarely went after someone with a pure and direct intent of killing them and he always sought ways to apprehend them and deliver them to M while they were still breathing. But then there were those who put the biblical demons to shame with their actions and he revelled in seeing them giving out their last breath, but telling Q of those people was not something he wanted to do.

 

Q was, for him, innocent. Though he took a glance of the world that no one wanted to acknowledge existed – or even dared dream of when they had a nightmare –he was still clueless as to what exactly happened in it. “I’d first put a bullet through my own skull before pointing a gun with ill intent at you and you know that, Q. You’ve met the real me, even though you did not know I was a spy.”

 

It seemed like his words reached Q at first, James feeling him relax a little, but just as he was about to angle his head in just the right way to get to taste those sweet lips of his again and prove to him just how good of a kisser he was, dropping hints with the right tongue moves of all the joy that could follow if only he was interested – seduction being the only think he did out of instinct even if he wasn’t on a mission – Q had to present him with the one scenario James had conditioned himself into not thinking about.

 

“I don’t want you to ever find yourself in the position of having to choose between the children and me, because the choice is obvious and I don’t want any one of you to have to go through that.” How it was possible for a whisper to sound so loud and for hot breath that he missed being blown on his neck now lash at him as painful as a poisoned whip was beyond him.

 

“We’ll never be in that situation, Q,” James breathed out, shaking with anger as his stomach twisted and turned, a wave of nausea washing over him as his imagination took over and forced him to imagine himself sitting in a room in which a man had a gun pointed a gun at a roughed up Q while two others dragged knives down his boys’ faces. “I’ll end the world before that happens,” he promised, his blood boiling with anger. “I’ll buy an island and take you and them there—” He stopped suddenly when he saw how Q looked at him, lowering his head just a bit. “I am not helping you feel safe around me, am I?”

 

Q slowly shook his head. “If it were anyone but you, I would have called security over a long time ago.”

 

He saw that as a glimmer of hope in a sea of despair. “I would never hurt you, willingly or otherwise and I would never really force you to do something that you didn’t want to.” Though he never really prayed, he made an exception in this case and dug deep in the recesses of his mind for the proper words that would keep Q from pointing out the huge numbers of vacations in which he had been pretty much dragged on. “You are important to me.” But something else occurred to him as he watched the highly stressed and uncomfortable Q before him, subtly shifting his weight from one foot to another. “And because of that, I will keep my distance from you until you feel okay to talk about this or to be this close to me.”

 

Q looked at him very thankfully, even letting out a sigh of relief. “I am grateful for that, Mister Bond.”

 

James greeted his children, ruffled their heads despite Jamie proclaiming that his father had just managed to do the single most uncool and most embarrassing thing in the universe, shoved a few extra pound notes in Alec’s hands, and then wrestled to keep his hands to himself as he said the sterile goodbyes to Q and left them to enjoy the rest of the day.

 

***

 

No matter how much he tried, Q simply couldn’t focus on the game he was supposed to be working on. It wasn’t his fault as providence decided that his boss had to dump on him a game with in which the main character was a tall, blond man, with a smug smile, and horrible one-liners that worked as a bloody spy. And the exact reason why he couldn’t do his job? He missed _his_ spy.

 

“There is no god,” he grumbled and plopped his head over the keyboard, not caring a single bit that he was running the little code he had managed to type.

 

Two months had passed since he had last seen the man. Q didn’t think that James would actually keep his word and that he would either catch glimpses of him every other day or hear the other two agents whispering about how hard he had glared at them for being too far or too close to him, but nothing. He was by no means complaining about the fact that the man respected him and his sanity enough to make a promise and keep him, but as his fear gave way to logic, Q realized that he missed him quite a lot.

 

“Why couldn’t be given that bloody football game?”

 

“Because your skills are not to be wasted on that no-brainer,” his team leader chimed in as she stuck her head in his office. “You know, if you feel like you are coming down with a cold, I would simply _have_ to send you home in order to prevent infecting the rest of the company,” she said slowly, winking and Q would have hugged and kissed her cheeks if it wouldn’t look suspicious.

 

Instead, he turned his head to the side and let out a loud cough – his team lead shut her eyes and slowly shook her head to get him to stop – and pulled his jacket around himself. “I think I might have left the apartment with a little bit of fever.”

 

He was on his way not five minutes later, his team lead going so far as managing to secure a company car for him. His ‘bodyguards’ also fussed around him for about a minute until they understood that he was just pretending to be sick – Q wondered if James would have been able to tell from the get go or if he would have been on his way to the MI6 medical wing right now – and started to tease him about how he had managed to pick up some bad habits that the old 006 had when it came to attending meetings.

 

“He’d go for threats of vomiting violently or have a pack of fake blood explode he got from God knows where, explode the second he set foot in the meeting room,” John said in a love voice to make sure that the driver didn’t hear them.  “Legend has it that he eventually ended up in Medical when some of his fake blood landed on M’s suit.”

 

“Legend has it?” Q mirrored, barely holding back his giggles. “Dare I ask what other funny legends have Alec as the main character?” The two agents’ fingers zipped across their mouths. “Oh, he’ll be getting an earful from me for this little secret of his as I’ve invented more stories than the Grimm brothers put to page to help Jamie and Victor fall asleep.”

 

He called Alec the second he got home, the man more than happy to fill in the next two hours with tales of the many times he made both the old M and the new M regretting having him on as an agent. Most of those stories also included Mister Bond which made Q pay attention even more, Sam busying himself with making tea.

 

Not that Q really noticed the tea, much too busy to hear of the one time Alec and Mister Bond started to play poker under the table during a rather important meeting because the speaker was a very boring man with a monotone voice that managed to put even Mister Tanner to sleep – from what he could gather, this Mister Tanner was a sucker for respecting higher-ups and rules. Then there was the other time when Mister Bond and him nicked the old Quartermaster’s boat and they somehow managed to drive it on land, Q smart enough not to ask why they did that.

 

He heard stories of them jumping out the window of a casino and then being forced to share a room with a very niffed Quartermaster – yes, the same man whose boat they stole, but the casino thing happened before that so the man was upset with the fact that they had totalled the newest car they got from him with the use of a remote control – unable to sleep since the man snored like he was a Grizzly.

 

Their conversation would have lasted longer, but he heard Mister Bond asking who he was talking to and without really thinking, he asked if he could say hello. Before Alec could say anything, Q heard a thump followed by a few choice words in Russian and then Mister Bond’s smooth voice. “ _How have you been doing, Q?”_

 

“Good,” Q said softly, a genuine smile spreading on his lips. “And you?”

 

“ _This and that, a bruise here and a bruise there, but mostly well.”_ A few seconds of dead air in which Mister Bond cleared his throat, making it obvious that he too was struggling with this awkward small talk. _“Ah, did I thank you for going to Jamie’s and Victor’s school last week?”_

 

A very awkward, forced, and pointless small talk and one that Q wasn’t going to force the two of them to go through, no matter how hard his heart was beating and despite the fact that he was very tempted to start munching on either his lower lips of his nails. “Want to go out for a cup of tea or coffee?”

 

The second of silence almost killed Q. “ _Yes_ ,” James finally breathed out. “ _Eve told me about this new place that I think you’d like so did you take your lunch yet? If you did, I can pick you up after you are done if you want to or we can go on another day if it’s too late.”_

 

Q clicked his tongue, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Actually, I was a bit too distracted to really work on anything today, so they sent me home.”

 

Something dropped and shattered and Alec cussed again, sneering at James to watch where he was running. “ _Is everything okay?”_

 

“Yes, yes,” he said quickly, holding his hand up as if he could physically restrain the man from over the other part of the city. “It was just that thee game that I was supposed to work on was a little…” He trailed off and made a disgruntled noise. “Anyway, I would be happy if we met today.” The sooner, the better, he wanted to add but kept his mouth shut.

 

“ _A sentiment that I more than share, Q_.” He heard a bit more thumping and cussing on the behalf of Alec, followed by something that sounded like a slap and a punch. “ _Then get out of my way, you pest_ ,” James snarled, voice distorted enough for the phone to be pushed against a chest – Mister Bond’s strong, muscly chest, the lucky phone. “ _I’ve got to go now, Q, but should I pick you up in two hours? Or do you want to meet directly there?”_

 

Q chuckled, playing with a strand of his hair – on that note, he really needed to cut it. “How can we meet directly there if we’re going to a place that I don’t know where it is?” Of course, they could have met somewhere in the city or give him the instructions, but Q _wanted_ James to pick him up.

 

“ _I’ll be at your place in two hours,_ ” James concluded and the conversation ended, Q not being quite subtle with his sudden need to find the proper clothing.

 

Contrary to popular belief, men also cared about the way they were dressed when going on a date with someone – the straight and non-douchebags ones included. True, they had a hell of an easier time picking something out – usually; all of his clothes were too flashy or too boring or it looked like he tried too hard and even though every single person in a situation like this tried too much, it didn’t mean that they wanted the other person to _know_ that – and they didn’t really have to worry about makeup, but they also plunged in their closet like a pirate in a huge chest full of treasure.

 

Eventually, Q finally managed to find just the right combination of pants, shirt, and cardigan that were perfect. And he found them just in time, Q buzzing James inside his building not a minute after he finished buttoning up. The second his fingers touched the doorknob, he decided that the colours he wore were too muted, but his two bodyguards-turned-friends silently pointed out that it was too late for any changes unless he wanted the other man that he was, in fact, trying.

 

But he forgot all about his clothes when he saw the way James was dressed, the royal navy of his suit – Q’s favourite one, in fact – making his blue eyes stand out even more. The whole fairy tale feeling was furthered by the shock due to static electricity when they shook hands, Q wanting to hit his head against the nearest wall because his ears had turned red and the other man noticed.

 

“The weather has been cold, even for London,” James said carefully as he pushed the back of his hand against his forehead, his tender, worried expression changing into one of annoyance when he peeked behind him at the two deadly MI6 agents that been reduced to waiter’s assistants. “You two are supposed to keep him safe for _everything_ , you know,” he scolded them through gritted teeth, draping his jacket around Q’s shoulders without looking away from them.

 

“Or, he could be red because he overheated while waiting for you,” John pointed out, unable to keep his amusement hidden when James instantly took his jacket away from Q and looked confusedly at him. “If you two go out now, with him like this, he might really catch a cold,” he continued despite the fact that Q was making desperate signs for him to drop it behind James.

 

Worse still, Sam decided to encourage his friend. “In fact, I think it would be for the better if the two of you stayed in for the night.”

 

“Or maybe we should leave this for another day, especially since you are getting increasingly—”

 

“I’m blushing, okay?” Q snapped, elbowing him when he saw the grin that spread on the man’s lips. “Choose your next words very carefully, Mister Bond, because they will decide if I am going to have that cup of tea with you or not.”

 

Carefully, James ran his fingers down Q’s face. “How is it that I’ve forgotten that you’re redder than this when you’re sick?”

 

***

 

The place didn’t have coffee, the chicken was overcooked, he had asked the waiter three times to bring him salt so he could attempt to save the withered salad, and he could swear he saw a rat scurrying around the floor – then again, it had dashed out of a woman’s purse, so maybe it was a really small dog, he wasn’t sure. But he liked it, because Q liked it. And it was obvious that he did because of the little smile he had on his lips as he took a whiff of his drink between sips, a little smile on his lips.

 

But just like he knew Q liked the place so did Q know that he was in a very light form of purgatory – that and he was also obvious that he was dancing around talking about something. “I can always take it to go, if you want,” he offered for the fifth time in as many minutes, James having to reach out and place his hands over his to keep him seated.

 

“I was told that I need to cut down on coffee, so this place is perfect for both of us, don’t worry.” He squeezed his hand when he saw the flash of worry on Q’s face. “Q, really, you don’t need to worry.”

 

“Kind of hard when it comes to you,” Q muttered in his cup and pulled his hand free.

 

What followed was awkward silence, James looking at Q while wracking his brain to come up with something, anything to talk about – except the weather; he hated talking about weather when it wasn’t particularly exceptional as he saw it as a sign of the relationship officially being over – but his brain refused to cooperate, which was ridiculous because on his way to the man’s apartment, he had a whirlwind of ideas that made it impossible for him to focus on anything.

 

He was tempted to start by complimenting Q’s clothes – it took a bit to get used to his sense of fashion and his style, but you could tell right away that he was the only person who could make those type of combinations work – but that was too superficial, so maybe he should focus on—

 

“You won’t kill me if I accidentally walk in on you getting a briefing from your boss, will you?” Of course Q would go for the direct approach, James suddenly happy that he wasn’t drinking any coffee.

 

“Of course not,” James said reassuringly, brushing their legs together. “In all honesty, if you were there while that was happening, I would somehow find a way to care even less about what M was going on about.”

 

“James, you _have_ to pay attention to what your boss tells you,” Q instantly admonished, lightly nudging his leg with his knee.

 

James grinned, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “Fine, I’ll do an effort and listen to the insults disguised as mission points if and only if you are there.” He could lean forward and still a kiss, but… He’d stolen the first one and it didn’t turn out that good, so it made sense that Q would be to initiate one this time – if there was even going to be any kissing involved. “But I will continue to ignore that pencil pusher when you are not within hearing range.”

 

Q clicked his tongue and pushed James’ hand away from his face while also entwining their fingers together, a shy pinkish tint spreading on his face. “I wonder how many of those suspicious wounds I helped you redress and take care of in the past could have been avoided if only you’d have paid heed to your boss’ warnings.” But James’ wasn’t allowed to digest the bit of logic and common sense he was given because Q wasn’t about to allow himself to be distracted from their real conversation. “That aside, you won’t try to snap my neck, will you?”

 

“Not if you hear M ranting, not if you accidentally pour tea over sensitive equipment,” especially since he himself never really took care of those things, “and not if I come back home and find you in bed with someone else.” He might have showed his teeth at that last possibility, already hating and wishing to break the bones of the inexistent bastard who had been there for Q when he hadn’t.

 

Q was suddenly really close to him, gently tapping his forehead. “Mister Bond, even though I haven’t really gotten to have a real relationship after you popped into my life,” a glare that said he now clearly knew why none of his dates went the way they were supposed to, but James shrugged because, again, none of them deserved Q giving them the time of day if their eyes wandered away from him so fast and so easily, “but I assure you that I am not the type of person who would cheat.”

 

Now James was even madder on that person without a face in his mind because they clearly entrapped Q in the toils of fake love and care. Well, it didn’t happen yet, so it meant that James had to be careful not to lose Q to anyone or to do something as stupid as dying and leaving Q alone. “I know,” he said eventually, gently taking Q’s hand in his.

 

It dawned at him when he saw Q's hesitant smile that he was going to be the one doing the stepping out. There was no doubt in his mind now that Q poked his nose here and there to get an idea what he would be dealing with if he decided to give them a shot and there was even less doubt that he had focused on honey pot missions. Worse still, because no one came to him to tell him about Q doing research, it was a very high possibility that he had used the myriad of Hollywood movies and cheap books.

 

“Q, I—” He started only to have his mouth covered by Q's warm, soft hand, the younger man turning his head to the side as he smiled sadly.

 

“You don't have to say anything unless you want to go somewhere that serves that ghastly drink you love so much,” he said in a voice that was just a pitch higher than his usual voice, making it obvious that he was trying to change the subject – and that was something which James couldn’t allow.

 

If there was one thing that made him sicker than a Q hurt by a stranger or someone he knew, was a Q hurt by him – something which he had practically sworn never to do. So he licked Q's palm to get him to move it away and then started to gently nibble on the tips of his fingers when it became obvious that the man wouldn't be disgusted by this, the light tint of pink and quickness in which the hand was removed betraying Q's dirty thoughts. 

 

“I stopped taking on the missions that I suspect you are thinking about the second the children's mother came into the picture.” Many would have advised against mentioning the ex in a situation such as this, but James knew Q would see the bigger picture.

 

“I wasn't... I have no idea... What type of missions are you talking about?” Q started to stammer, redder than James had ever seen him, nibbling on his lower lip. “And assuming that I did know what you were talking about, I still wouldn't blame you or hold it against you as you are a spy and it is a part of your life,” he added weakly, but they both knew that was a complete lie.

 

“Maybe at first,” James said softly. “But the person you care for would still feel hurt and betrayed. And even though that feeling will start off as nothing but a pinch in the back of their mind, it will slowly develop into a festering, open wound that would leave behind a deep scar even after they decide they had enough and kick the agent to the curve." He gently cupped Q's chin and gently tapped his lower lip with his thumb to save it from the merciless teeth. “So, darling Q, I stopped being the honey on those missions and I will stop flirting on normal missions if it's going to be you and me.”

 

Q's eyes were both a weapon and a weakness at the same time because while he couldn't deny him anything while he was lost in them, he also knew everything that was going on in the man's head. So when joy replaced uncertainty and fear, James was drowning in happiness even before Q nodded and thanked him for being honest with half a mouth, his cheeks and the tip of his ears red once more, and his heart beating so hard that James didn’t really need to strain his hearing to be aware of it.

 

As much as James had wanted for the date to end with Q moving in his room and not strangling him when he found out that he had been written in his will, it actually ended with their goodnight kiss getting accidentally ruined by Q’s bodyguards opening the bloody apartment door when they shouldn’t.

 

“Ah, sorry,” Sam was saying with half a grin on his face, James frowning because the last time he checked, he wasn’t the bad body who smoked and took the high school’s nerdy virgin with overprotective parents out on a date and was five minutes late passed his curfew. “We thought something might have been wrong since you were talking so long to come in.”

 

If Q turned around, he could reach out and tug on the man’s tie to get him to smack his face in his in his fisted hand. But Q seemed to sense his intention and placed himself between them, hands over James’ fist. “Hug and kiss the children from me, okay?”

 

James focused back on the agent who did not really understand when he really wasn’t wanted. “Can I punch—?”

 

“No,” Q cut him instantly, tapping his forehead to get James to see him arching his eyebrow as if daring him to turn his attention away from him. “See you soon and good night, James.”

 

He was tempted to make that ‘soon’ be the next day, but Alec was more grounded in reality than him and pointed out that he had to be patient and wait for Q to give him. After all, he didn’t want to scare Q back into thinking that he was a psychopathic stalker with criminal tendencies, now did he? The bastard went as far as to imply that one of the things that got on Q’s nerves was his inability to be patient, which got him to quietly sit on the sofa – not sulking while doing so – and wonder what else he did that annoyed Q.

 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait for too long to go on their second date – three days because Q really wanted to catch up on that first ay he wasted – and naturally, the first thing that came out of his mouth was: “What do I do that annoys you?”

 

Q tilted his head little bit to the left in obvious confusion. “I don’t know?”

 

“Alec said that my—”

 

That was when they had their first kiss. It was a clumsy one, their first attempt at locking lips ruined by the fact that Q tugged him down too fast and not angling his head in the right position which resulted in James bumping his nose against his chin before their lips. They quickly changed their position, but James – doing a horrible job at working on his little impatience problem – opened his mouth before Q did and ended up sucking on his lips.

 

It was embarrassing to say the least and he was wracking his brain trying to remember how he was invited so easily in other people’s bed without even putting a single shred of effort with that. Well, to be honest, he actually cared about Q – okay, so he _ended_ up caring about most of the people he made out with, but not as much as he did Q.

 

“Let’s try again, okay?” Q asked slowly as James was lost in wiping his lips with his thumb, placing his hand over his when he felt him try to pull away. “We’ll go at your pace—”

 

“No, no, I’ll slow down to yours and—”

 

Q covered his mouth with his lips, smiling. “James, just stop thinking,” Q muttered, closing his eyes and tilting his head a little. “Just… kiss me.”

 

Half an hour later and they had found their way to the sofa, furiously making out, reservations forgotten. All his worries were forgotten just as their reservation and the date ended with James rolling over a naked Q in the morning and waking him up by leaving another mark on his neck for the world to know that he was taken.

 

“You spent the night over and the children are home,” Q said suddenly, stopping his rather pleasant neck scratching in favour of jumping out of bed and starting to run around the room, throwing James’ discarding clothes at his head.

 

“They’re with Alec,” James said, waiting for Q to get close enough to grab him and pull him on top of himself. “They are old enough to catch on when their father goes out on a date and they had Alec block the door while tackling me to the ground and demanding to know who’s stealing me from you and when they’ll get to meet them.” He started nibbling on Q’s Adam’s apple, gently massaging his back until he felt him fully relax. “Now, how about we continue to enjoy ourselves until my boss calls me in because my children are bringing forth the end of the world?”

 

Q moved back in on their third date.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love~


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